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S I TA 

A STORY OF 
CHILD-MARRIAGE FETTERS 


f 






Copyright, IQH. by 

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 


New York: isB Fifth Avenue 
Chicago: 123 N. Wabash Ave. 
Toronto: 25 Richmond St., W. 
London : 21 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street 




©CI.A297296 


CONTENTS 


BOOK I 


CHAPTER 

I. 

A KING’S DAUGHTER 

SiTA 



PAGE 

II 

II. 

The Highest Caste . 




20 

III. 

New Interests . 




30 

IV. 

Seeking News from Home 




36 

V. 

A New Pupil 




57 

VI. 

Murti Puja 




64 

VII. 

Famine .... 




67 

VIII. 

The Monsoon 




77 

IX. 

Mohan Lal Wearies of Waiting 



82 

X. 

White Pansies . 




90 

XI. 

Kismat .... 




98 

XII. 

Letters .... 




107 

XIII. 

Joy Day .... 




”5 


BOOK II 






STORM AND STRESS 




I. 

Sita’s Mother . 




125 

II. 

Turmoil .... 




134 

III. 

The Cockatoo . 




139 

IV. 

White Lilies 




151 

V. 

Mohani’s Brother 




161 


5 


7 


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I 


SITA 

I T is the last of April and is hot. The thermome- 
ter registers one hundred and twenty degrees in 
the shade; and the cattle, the flowers, and the 
grass register the heat much higher, for they are in 
the sun. The grass on the mission compound is 
parched and dead, and the few flowers that have sur- 
vived the heat, withered and grey with dust, look as 
though they could not live another day. 

Two cows stand panting under the stone wall of 
the compound, but the wall is too low to afford much 
protection. The talaw [reservoir of water], in which 
several buffaloes are standing, submerged except for 
nose and horns, has no attractions for the cows. One 
of the latter, an imported English animal, unused to 
the intensity of India’s hot season, looks longingly 
and often at the mango grove adjoining the talaw; 
but the humped white native cow patiently closes her 
eyes and switches away the flies with her tail, chews 
her cud, and pants. 

The mango trees of the grove appear not to mind 
the high temperature. They rustle their leaves con- 
tentedly in the hot wind, and, after turning them for 
protection against the fierce rays of the sun, seem 
really grateful for the heat. The mangoes are putting 


II 


12 


A King’s Daughter 

out new leaves, whose pink, dainty freshness contrasts 
with the dustiness and dark green of the older leaves. 
For these old leaves, not content with their tenure of 
life, which the frostless climate makes a full year, hold 
on until the exuberant new growth crowds them off to 
their death. 

In the edge of the talaw, on the far side, are two 
washermen, clad in loin-cloths, who, as they beat the 
clothes upon the rocks, grunt a tuneful accompani- 
ment. In their neighbourhood, but not too close upon 
the water-loving buffaloes, are several men bathing; 
while on the near side, by a set of steps, a number of 
women are bathing, and at the same time washing the 
saris they wear, always keeping one end of the drapery 
wrapped about them. 

On the steps of the tank stands a little girl. She 
has evidently been bathing, for her red sari shows dark 
and light streaks and her head is bared, exposing long, 
stringy dark hair. Presently, the tropical sun quickly 
doing its work, she draws her dry sari over her head, 
and going up the steps, stops and looks toward the 
grove, then turns her face toward the mission house. 
She pays no attention to the women who pass her car- 
rying jars of water on their heads, but gazes stead- 
fastly, wonderingly, at the mission premises. The 
parched grass of the compound is just the same as the 
grass outside, and the pipal, the cork, the gold mohur, 
and other trees are familiar enough. But the com- 
pound is large, the grouping of the trees and shrubs is 
distinctive; and the arrangement of the flower beds is 
new to her; then, though a number of the smaller 


Sita 


13 


houses are purely native, the largest, the bungalow, in 
spite of its Indian pillared verandas and its roof of 
white Allahabad tiles, has a foreign air ; moreover, she 
knows that foreigners live there, white-faced women 
such as she has never seen. She stands looking until 
a faint voice calling from the mango grove diverts 
her attention, then she runs quickly down the steps, 
fills her brass lota [drinking vessel], and carries it 
to a little child who lies on the ground in the shade 
of the trees. 

At four o'clock the door of the mission house opens 
and a woman comes out upon the side veranda ; a for- 
eign woman, so say her white face and European 
dress. Simultaneous with her appearance there is a 
stir in the grove and the two hundred people who 
have been resting there, most of them sleeping after 
their dinner, now arise and start to the bungalow. 
Some hurry that they may be the first to receive at- 
tention, but most move slowly, dragging themselves 
over the ground. 

The many feet so stir the dust of the crude road 
leading from the grove that as the crowd skirts the 
end of the compound they are completely enveloped 
in a cloud of their own making. But at the corner 
they strike the hard road and, entering the driveway 
of the compound, they leave the dust behind. As 
they emerge from the cloud some are seen to carry 
the usual bundle of earthen cooking and drinking ves- 
sels, though others have nothing except a drinking 
cup. 

The company are wretchedly clad. A few of the 


14 A King’s Daughter 

men have on, in addition to their loin-cloths, shoulder 
scarfs and turbans, but the others wear only loin- 
cloths. The women’s saris of faded blue and red are 
ragged and of the scantiest pattern, reaching but little 
below their knees; while the children up to six or 
seven years old are quite naked. A glance at the 
emaciated bodies, sunken in the region of the stomach, 
and at the gaunt, haggard, hopeless faces is sufficient 
to /proclaim the fact that these are famine sufferers. 

As they near the bungalow, a few sing out with 
the twang and whine of the professional beggar, “ We 
are very poor, give us food to eat.” Some hasten their 
steps, and as the foreign lady goes forward to the 
edge of the veranda, salaam low, touching her feet and 
their foreheads alternately, crying, “ Salaam, Miss 
Sahib, salaam, protector of the poor. Give us food 
to eat. Your honour is our mother and father. Give 
us food to eat.” 

In answer to these and to the more piteous ap- 
peals of the silent company. Miss Ray stands and 
smiles cheerily, saying : 

“ Salaam to you all ! We are glad you have come 
and with great pleasure will help you every one. But 
you will need to be patient and wait your turn. You 
have all had dinner, have you not? ” 

Yes, Miss Sahib. Yes, protector of the poor,” 
came the reply from many voices. 

Good. Now you may sit down in the shade of 
the pipal tree there, and rest while I see the sick ones. 
All who are ill come to me now.” 

With brightening faces the gaunt company sat down 


Sita 


15 


under the great tree which stretched its branches pro- 
tectingly and easily shaded the two hundred sufferers 
who sought its shelter. One of these carried a cocoa- 
nut which, with trembling hands he broke and offered, 
prostrating himself before the beautiful tree. Miss 
Ray saw and looked troubled, then said softly, “ It is 
small wonder that they worship the pipal tree.'' 

In response to her call, a group of twenty or more 
moved slowly to the veranda, and several began at once 
to explain their ailments. 

But the relief worker interrupted. Wait a little, 
I am not the doctor. She is at the dispensary, over 
there. Here, Abdul, you go with them ; but first order 
the cart for those who are not able to walk." 

When Miss Ray called for those seeking 'work, more 
than one hundred and fifty people rose. “ Not all at 
once," she said. Bhagwani, count off ten at a time 
and keep the rest back under the tree." 

Among the workers were many children, some of 
them not more than seven years old. With them, hold- 
ing by the hand a smaller child, came the little girl who 
had stood on the steps of the tank. These kept apart 
from the others, the girl looking irresolute and pained ; 
plainly she felt humiliated by her position. Presently, 
however, after a sigh from the boy, she set her lips, 
and leading him straight up to Miss Ray, salaamed 
politely, after the manner of the high-caste Hindus, 
without bending head or body. The boy, gazing at 
the strange dress and face of the foreign woman, 
forgot to salaam until reminded by his sister. These 
children looked different from the rest. Though they 


1 6 A King’s Daughter 

were not in good condition, they did not have a famine- 
stricken appearance, and they were better dressed than 
the crowd. The boy wore a simple loin-cloth, an old 
embroidered cap, and a string of beads ; and the girl’s 
sari, though worn, was long, falling quite to her feet. 
These children were lighter in complexion than most 
of the others, fair with the fairness of the East Indian 
Aryan. The girl’s eyes were a dark hazel, large and 
wide apart; her nose was slightly aquiline, her lips 
full and clear-cut; while the smoothly combed hair, 
a remarkable thing among famine sufferers, was drawn 
back, displaying a smooth high forehead. The boy 
looked much like his sister, though his eyes were 
smaller and nearer together. His head was tonsured, 
and from the crown hung a tuft of long dark hair, 
which was blowing about in the wind. He was per- 
haps five years old, while the girl appeared to be ten. 
Both were straight and well formed, and they carried 
themselves proudly. 

When these children presented themselves before 
Miss Ray she returned their salutation but continued 
to give her attention to the group with which she was 
engaged. She had dismissed several when the little 
girl, who had waited with a perplexed frown on her 
face, said: — 

“ Miss Sahib-ji, I too wish to work.” Then, draw- 
ing herself up, she added, “ We are Rajputs [of the 
King, or Military, caste].” 

A faint smile crossed Miss Ray’s face as she re- 
plied, to the claimant for caste recognizance: Your 
turn will come soon, my dear; there are only three 


Sita 


17 


more of this group.’' She was turning again to the 
waiting low-caste people, when the boy’s wan face 
arrested the movement, and she asked : “Is your 
brother ill, daughter ? ” 

“No, Miss Sahib-ji, not to-day; but he has been 
having fever since we left our house.” The little 
girl’s lips trembled as she spoke. 

“ No fever now ? That is good. What is his name ? 
And what is your name ? ” 

“ My brother’s name is Mohan Lai and my name is 
Sita.” 

“ Well, Sita, tell me where you live.” 

“ We live in Raj Gaon. Our father is ill — he has 
been ill a long time. My mother could not leave him, 
and there was nothing to do there and so they sent me 
here to get work.” 

“ Have you suffered for food ? ” 

“ We have had food every day, once; but there was 
only enough for three weeks more, so mother said we 

must go or — father ” She stopped, setting her 

trembling lips together firmly. 

“ I think you are not accustomed to coolie 
work? ” 

“ No, Miss Sahib-ji, but I am strong, and I want to 
take care of my little brother.” 

“ That is good talk, but I think — I fear My 

dear, if you do coolie work you will have to be with 
men and women coolies, and some of them are bad, 
bad.” 

“ My father told me, and he bade me not to hear 
their talk.” 


1 8 A King’s Daughter 

” Your father is a wise man. But I think he did 
not know that we take care of children here.” 

We are not beggars,” responded Sita proudly. 

'' Certainly not. But there is food for you here, 
sent by kind people from my country and from Eng- 
land. They have heard of the trouble in India and 
have sent money and grain to help the Sirkar [govern- 
ment] care for the unfortunates for a time, until the 
famine is over.” 

“ When the famine is over, my father will pay the 
Sirkar.” 

The little girl brightened, and then looking thought- 
ful, said : “ But we must not break our caste rules. 
Miss Sahib-ji.” 

“ There is no need, daughter. We have children 
of all castes here, but you can keep to yourselves as 
much as you like. A Brahman woman does the cook- 
ing for all.” 

Good talk. And where would we live ? ” 

“ Right here in one of those houses at the back 
of the compound. That new house behind that clump 
of palm trees is for the girls who come in this week.” 
Miss Ray pointed to a low rough mud hut, upon the 
roof of which two men were arranging red tiles. None 
of the houses boasted doors or windows, but in lieu 
of these only holes in the wall. Seeing a dubious ex- 
pression upon the little girl's face, the relief worker 
explained that these were only temporary houses put 
up by the Sirkar. ‘‘ The rains will soon come, no 
doubt,” she concluded, with a smile, and will end the 
famine.” 


Sita 


19 


‘‘ Ji. Where do the coolie people live? ’’ 

'' The coolie people camp under the trees. There 
are so many famine sufferers that we can provide 
shelter for the children only. I have the girls, and 
Mr. Ashley, the Padre Sahib, has the boys.’’ 

“ Where do the boys live? 

“ Near Mr. Ashley’s bungalow,” Miss Ray an- 
swered, indicating a group of houses a half mile to 
the east. However,” she added as the children clung 
together, “ your brother is a little fellow and is ill, and 
if you want to stay here, he may stay, too.” 

‘‘ Many, many salaams, Miss Sahib-ji,” the children 
answered together. 

Then Sita, after looking at her brother’s thin face, 
now lighted with a smile, said : — 

‘'We will stay, then, Miss Sahib-ji, for a little while, 
until father comes for us.” 


II 


THE HIGHEST CASTE 

U PON the third morning after the coming of 
the Rajput children, some twenty-five or 
thirty of the government wards were sitting 
in a wide broken circle under the palm trees in front 
of their huts. Apart from the others, sheltered from 
the sun by one of the palms, was Sita. Manifestly 
she had been talking, for all eyes were directed toward 
her. Manifestly, too, something displeasing had oc- 
curred, for there was upon her face a look of offended 
dignity as she said : — 

‘‘ I tell you that to me many beautiful wedding pres- 
ents were given, saris red and green silk, and such a 
handsome amethyst necklace, and very many bangles 
of gold and silver. And there were anklets, heavy 
anklets of silver, and a nose ring of pearl and gold 
and 

W ah! W ah! interrupted the girl on the far side 
of the circle. ‘‘ That is a big story you tell about silk 
saris and wonderful jewelry. But we have heard fine 
tales before.” 

“ Amni, you low-caste one, I am not a liar.” 

“Who knows? Why did you not bring some of 
your fine things with you? Wah ! who knows if there 
was any wedding?” 


20 


21 


The Highest Caste 

“ I have said that three years ago my wedding 
was.” The little girl raised her bare right arm high 
above her head as she added : “ And for three years I 
have worn this marriage bracelet.” 

The children gazed curiously at the plain iron ring 
and looked at Amni in amazement and condemnation 
— condemnation of her pretended doubt, and amaze- 
ment at her audacity in attacking a high-caste girl. 

But Amni, before the famine, had lived near Aram- 
pur; and her two years as a day scholar in the mission 
school had greatly modified the worshipful reverence 
for the high caste to which her people had from pre- 
historic times been trained. Moreover, among the gov- 
ernment wards she was the acknowledged leader. In- 
stead of confessing defeat, therefore, she tried again. 

She jumped up and began to walk about Sita just 
inside the circle, her gaze, meanwhile, fastened upon 
the meaningful bracelet. 

Wah ! ” she said at last, her small black eyes snap- 
ping. No doubt it is of purest gold.” 

“ Owl 1 All but idiots know that a marriage brace- 
let is always of iron I ” 

** Hai! Hdi! [Alas! Alas!] So it is of iron. But 
will not the princess deign to show us her jewels of 
silver and gold ? ” 

Thou * knowest well, low one, that I could not 
wear my ornaments such times as these. And — and be- 
sides — most of the things were pawned after my father 
— after the famine got so bad.” 

Sita had forgotten the quarrel in thought of home. 

* The use of “ thou ” implies contempt, sometimes endearment. 


22 


A King’s Daughter 

Her voice faltered at the last, and at this reminder of 
their broken homes, tears came to the eyes of several 
of the group. 

But it did not suit Amni to drop the quarrel, and 
she began repeating some of the things that Sita had 
said. Stopping suddenly, she asked : — 

‘‘And where is the bahadur [hero], the great man 
who lets his bride pawn her jewels and eat the bread 
of the Sirkar? 

This shot told. Some of the girls smiled. 

Sita’s frown deepened, and with the light gone from 

her eyes she answered : “ Thou knowest well, 

one, that a man does not support his wife until after 

the second marriage ceremony, thou unmarried 

slanderer ! 

“ Are! And you know well,’' Amni retorted in high, 

treble tones, her black eyes flashing, “ you vain 

boaster, that in these years of famine, people have 
not been able to feed their children, and how could 

they make marriages for them, you daughter 

of a woman without a nose ! ” * 

Sita’s face turned ashen. For a moment she sat 
perfectly still, her manner quite controlled except for 
the quivering of her chin. She then replied in a low, 
intense tone, calling down curses upon her antagonist, 
upon her ancestors and her posterity. 

Amni shivered and cried out, for Hindus believe 
in the power of a curse. 

“ Girls, enough ! ” sternly interposed Miss Ray, who, 

♦It is a custom among the Hindus for a jealous man to cut 
off or bite off his wife’s nose. 


23 


The Highest Caste 

hearing angry voices while making her rounds, had 
joined the crowd. “ Do you not know that gali 
[abusive language] is forbidden on this compound? 
Amni, Sita, come with me.” 

The girls followed the relief worker to the largest 
of the mud houses — the low-caste girl shamefaced 
and with hanging head, the Rajputni proudly erect. 
The latter had noted Miss Ray’s presence before her 
last speech, but had not therefore restrained her 
anger. 

Amni apologized and was sent away, but Sita pro- 
tested that she had not done wrong. 

“ Should I eat abuse and say nothing? She tried 
to make the girls believe that I was lying and she dared 
to defame my mother.” 

That was hard. But you — what did you say to 
her? ” 

‘‘ She deserves all that I said.” 

Did you not curse her and her mother and all her 
people ? ” 

Ji. Should I eat her abuse and not cause her to 
eat double? She deserves my curses.” 

“ No, daughter. No one deserves your curses. 
Amni did wrong, very wrong; but she is sorry and 
has asked your forgiveness at once.” 

Miss Sahib-ji, I will not forgive her.” 

The relief worker noted the child’s angry brow and 
her firmly set lips, and excusing herself, went out. 

Left alone, the little girl stood for a time looking 
angrily at the floor. ‘‘ She let Amni go and she keeps 
me here for punishment/’ she thought. But when pres- 


24 


A King’s Daughter 

ently she raised her eyes, they fell upon a picture on 
the wall, a copy of Raphael’s Cherub, and as she gazed 
her brow cleared. 

She awoke from her absorption upon hearing a wail 
outside, and hastening to the door, looked toward the 
porch of the adjoining house, where with several other 
ailing little ones she had left her brother asleep. He 
still lay quiet, and Sita now observed that Miss Ray 
had taken the wailing child into her arms and was 
soothing her into quietness. 

It is the little Rajputni who came to-day,” com- 
mented the watcher as Miss Ray fed the starving one 
tiny bits of orange. She still gazed as the relief 
worker gave her charge into the hands of an ayah 
[nurse] and turned her attention to others. Mohan 
Lai awoke, and as Miss Ray gave him an orange, 
he sat up and gave back her smile. 

My brother is better, and the Miss Sahib is 
kind,” the watcher said. 

When the relief worker returned she found the 
little girl standing with rapt attention before the print 
of the great masterpiece, and seating herself in a 
country-made rocking-chair, she began to talk about 
the child-angel. 

** It is beautiful,” Sita said, the most beautiful 
picture I ever saw.” Then after a moment, '' We have 
a picture of a baby at our house.” 

What is it, daughter ? ” 

It is Krishna.” 

The child’s face grew sorrowful. She was silent 
until Miss Ray asked her about the famine in Raj 


The Highest Caste 25 

Gaon, when she told a tale full of woe, but nothing 
of her own people. 

How is it that a little girl knows so much about 
the whole tahsil [division of a district] ? ” 

“ I have heard my father talk, and he knows 
everything. And the tahsildar [collector of reve- 
nue], my father-in-law, comes often to talk with 
him.” 

“ The tahsildar is your father-in-law ? ” 

Ji. He is a rich man. And to think that unmar- 
ried low-caste one should try to make the girls believe 
that I was lying about my marriage and my wedding 
gifts!” 

‘‘ When was your marriage,* daughter? ” 

“ Three years since.” 

You were then how old? ” 

Of six years.” 

Then you are only nine years old now? You 
look older.” 

” I am of nine years and four months. My father 
says I am large.” The child smiled. 

How old is your shadi-walla [bridegroom] ? ” 

“ Of fifteen years.” 

What is his name ? ” 

Sita hung her head, then answered : — 

“ Miss Sahib-ji, it is not the custom for a woman 
to speak her master's name.” 

True. But you are only a child. Well, what does 
he do?” 

* The first marriage or betrothal is in the nature of an execu- 
tory contract. 


26 


A King’s Daughter 

After further conversation, the relief worker asked : 

“If the tahsildar is a rich man, why does he not 
help your father f '' 

“ There was a — a — disagreement/^ 

“ It should be a serious disagreement that would 
cause a man of wealth to allow his son’s shadi-walli 
[bride] to — ^to suffer. Did it never occur to you that 
— that the tahsildar may intend to set aside this mar- 
riage ? ” 

“ Miss Sahib- ji, my marriage was not a kachcha 
[raw] marriage, and a pakka [cooked] marriage can- 
not be broken.” The little girl drew herself up with 
a look of offended dignity. 

“ I do not doubt that it was a pakka marriage, my 
dear. But I have heard that the bridegroom’s people 
may have even a pakka marriage set aside.” 

“ They would not dare ! My father is a great man 
and of a higher family than the tahsildar. Oh, it is 
cruel of them to let all this shame come upon us.” 
As Sita spoke angry tears filled in her eyes. 

“ What is your father’s name, daughter ? ” 

“ My father’s name is Janak. He is of King 
Janak’s line.” 

“ King Janak, the philosopher of Rajputana ? ” 

“ Ji. My father’s people came from Rajputana, and 
he, too, is a philosopher.” 

Miss Ray considered the grace with which the child 
wore her faded sari, her extraordinary command of 
language, the dignity of her bearing, and noted the 
fine brow and slightly aquiline nose. 

“ I am glad,” she said, “ to know a daughter of 


The Highest Caste 27 

King Janak, and I should like to hear more of your 
people/’ 

Sita, moved by the sympathy of her companion, sat 
down at her feet on the bamboo matting, and putting 
aside her reserve, poured out her heart in the story of 
the famine as she knew it among her own relatives. 
She retained her self-control until she came to speak 
of her father’s illness, when her chin began to quiver, 
and soon her voice broke. Then, though she saw tears 
on the missionary’s cheek, she turned to the window 
to hide her own. 

The relief worker cheered the little girl with the 
promise that she would speak to the Deputy Com- 
missioner of the conditions in Raj Gaon; and con- 
fidently asserted her belief that the rains would 
come soon. Then she returned to the matter in 
hand. 

“ The girls here all have sad stories, and it pains 
me when they hurt each other by ugly quarrels. I 
hope, dear child, that the anger has gone out of your 
heart?” 

But Sita remained silent. 

Do you mean me to understand that you really 
like to hear and to speak ugly words ? ” 

'' Oh, no. Miss Sahib-ji. I would never use vile 
words like that Amni did. My father would not allow 
me.” 

You have a wise father,” said Miss Ray, calling 
to mind that while Sita had not spared imprecation 
she had abstained from the unspeakably scurrilous 
language in which Hindus of all castes indulge. 


28 


A King’s Daughter 

'' So wise and good. Miss Sahib-ji, should a daugh- 
ter of a king eat the filthy abuse of a low-caste girl ? ’’ 

‘‘ Amni is not to blame for being born in a lower 
caste than yours, any more than you are to blame 
because you were not born a Brahman.” 

I wish I was a Brahman. No, I do not. King 
Janak taught the Brahmans philosophy; my father 
says so.” 

So I have read. But have you never heard of the 
caste that is higher than Rajput or Brahman ? ” 

A higher caste than the Brahman? ” Sita repeated 
incredulously. 

“ Yes, daughter; but one is not born into this caste. 
Its members may be of any caste or any country. They 
do not give, nor do they wish to give, galif' 

'' I might stop giving gali/' the child said after a 
pause, but the wish would be in my heart. Tell me 
about this caste.” 

“ Did you ever hear the name, Kshama Sagarf ” 

Ji; it is one of the names of the Great God.” 

What does it mean ? ” 

Ocean of Forgiveness,” answered the little girl 
slowly. 

Ocean of Forgiveness. The Great God forgives 
because he loves us. Well, this caste I tell you of is 
the Loving caste, and its members are the Sons and 
Daughters of Kshama Sagar.” 

When Miss Ray had explained, the little girl sat in 
silence, her face indicating that a struggle went on in 
her heart. 

‘‘ Miss Sahib-ji,” she said presently, ‘‘ I am a king's 


The Highest Caste 29 

daughter, and I cannot forgive Amni; but I will obey 
your order. I will not quarrel again here.” 

‘‘Very well; yet I hope, dear child, that some day 
you may belong to this highest of castes; that you 
may not only be a daughter of a king but a daughter 
of the King of kings, of the Great God who is the 
Ocean of Forgiveness.” 

When she went out again among the girls, Sita’s 
face was thoughtful and wondering. But from Amni, 
who presently came up to her salaaming, she turned 
without a word. 


Ill 


NEW INTERESTS 

O N Sunday the arriving famine sufferers re- 
mained in the mango grove, leaving free the 
pipal tree on the mission compound; and in 
its shade on Sunday afternoons the government wards 
were accustomed to gather. 

Soon after the noon siesta, upon Sita’s first Sunday 
in Arampur, the children sought the pipal tree, and 
there, protected from the glare and heat of the sun, 
they chatted or sat silent in languorous content. They 
had been enjoying the tree for some time when a 
weary little voice piped out the wish that the Miss 
Sahib would come and tell them a story. Several 
echoed the wish, and Amni volunteering to act as a 
substitute, succeeded in pleasing the crowd. 

Sita made no comment, but kept her eyes fixed on 
the mango grove. The story teller, observing her atti- 
tude, became nettled and, throwing back her head in 
such a way as to show off her saucy nose, said : 
Perhaps the Rajputni will give us a story? ” 

Now Amni was the only one of the company who 
cared to attempt a tale before the audience of a hun- 
dred or more, and she did not expect her challenge to 
be taken up. 


30 


New Interests 


31 


She can tell good stories/’ said one of the girls 
who belonged to the same segregated group as Sita. 
“ She told us three or four yesterday.” 

“ A story I A story ! ” the children chorused. 

All were now looking at the Rajputni, who with 
her brother by her side was sitting close up to the 
trunk of the tree. 

‘‘ I might try if you wish it,” she said. They 
were eager, and she told an ancient folk tale of Raj- 
putnana, “ Where my grandfather’s grandfather used 
to live,” she explained. She was not in the least 
afraid, and she told her story with a charm of manner 
that delighted the children. 

When they demanded another she chose an episode 
from the Ramayana, and as she related the daring 
deeds of Rama, held her audience spellbound. She was 
in the midst of the story when Miss Ray came, 
but as the latter nodded approval, went on to 
the end. 

Until she had finished and the children had begun 
to cry out their appreciation, the green leaves over- 
head had rustled a soft accompaniment to her musical 
voice; then all at once a flurry of wind stirred them 
into sudden agitation. 

At this the joyous excitement in Sita’s face gave 
place to awe, and when the flurry had passed she said 
softly, looking up at the tree : — 

‘‘ It is Vishnu. He is always pleased when we give 
Rama praise.” 

Her awed expression was reflected in the faces of 
many of her hearers. But Miss Ray, at this recogni- 


32 A King’s Daughter 

tion of the tree as a manifestation of Vishnu, looked 
perplexed. 

Rama, in the Ramayana,” she said after a mo- 
ment, “ is a man of many fine qualities.’' 

“ Ji,” replied Sita, '' my father says that Rama was 
the perfect incarnation of Vishnu. See how he 
looked.” And the little girl sprang up and recited from 
the Hindu translation of the great epic : — 

“ Known to the world by Rama’s name, 

With soul subdued, a chief of might, 

In scripture versed, in glory bright; 

His steps in nature’s paths are bent. 

Obedient, pure, and eloquent. 

Tall and broad-shouldered, strong of limb, 

Fortune has set his mark on him. 

Graced with a coral-shell’s triple line. 

His throat displays the auspicious sign. 

High destiny is clear impressed 
On massive jaw and ample chest. 

His mighty shafts he truly aims 
And foemen in the battle tames.” 

This effort inspired in the girls awe as well as ad- 
miration, for, excepting by a religious teacher, they 
had heard no one quote from their sacred books. 
Their awe, however, was soon dispelled by the childish 
manner of the little girl, who made much of the lines 
and little of her accomplishment. Her father had 
taught her, she said, in answer to Miss Ray’s ques- 
tion. And when the latter asked her to repeat the 
first lines she did so again and again until several of 
the little girls could recite them. Then the relief 
worker interpreted their meaning, for many of the 


New Interests 


33 

words were high Hindu and to all but two or three 
of the children unintelligible. 

She was still talking, when Sita, hearing a murmur 
of voices, turned her head, to see coming from the 
direction of the bungalow a long column of girls in 
white saris. Looking back, she saw that the column 
came from beyond the bungalow out of the gate of 
a walled enclosure, inside of which lived the mission 
orphanage girls. Moving along the driveway and ap- 
proaching the pipal tree, the marching company paused 
for a moment and their glad faces broke into smiles, 
as bowing low they repeatedly salaamed to Miss Ray 
and to the government wardi. 

Sita joined her companions in answering salaams. 
** How strange ! ” she commented, as she intently re- 
garded the passing company, led by two four-year-old 
children. “ Girls of all ages and all castes, and all 
wearing those white saris with pretty borders.” She 
withdrew her gaze for a moment to glance at the 
crowd about her. They, too, made a pretty picture 
in their red saris, many of them smiling as they 
salaamed to the white-garbed children. 

Until the last of the line had passed Sita watched. 
** How different they look. Miss Sahib-ji, and how 
beautiful,” she then said, with perplexed contracting 
of her forehead. I never liked white saris before. 

And their faces Please tell me about your 

girls.” 

The government wards were now dispersing, and 
the relief worker had arisen from her chair. 

- They are lovely, my dear,” she answered with 


34 


A King’s Daughter 

her sunniest smile, and it is not all the dress. I 
do think girls look better in white, but they are just 
as sweet on week days while wearing their red 
saris/' 

They look happy and — different,” Sita said, walk- 
ing by Miss Ray’s side. Do your girls never quar- 
rel, Miss Sahib-ji?” 

A few still quarrel, but most of them stopped that 
long ago.” 

Sita now inquired who the Miss Sahibs were who 
were driving by in a tonga. 

The elder lady is Dale Mem Sahib, who has charge 
of the zenana work. The other is Vernon Miss Sahib. 
She has the care of the girls at home and I have them 
at school.” 

Miss Sahib-ji, you do not mean that your girls 
go to school like boys ? ” 

Certainly. Why not ? ” 

“We never had a girls’ school in Raj Gaon, and 
when I heard the girls here say something about school 
I thought it was a boys’ school.” 

“ I see. We have been having holidays this 
week.” 

“ Miss Sahib-ji,” petitioned the child, her voice 
tremulous with excitement as she joined the palms of 
her hands together, “ might I — ^might I go to your 
school ? ” 

“ Surely, daughter, as soon as your time is up, your 
two weeks of segregation. I must keep the new girls 
to themselves for a time lest some disease be brought 
to us.” 


New Interests 


35 

There was a joyous light in Sita's eyes as she 
counted on her fingers, and announced : — 

In seven days then I shall go to school. Oh, won- 
derful! Many, many salaams, Miss Sahib-ji.’' 

And the child danced away to the pipal tree to tell 
her brother. 


IV 


SEEKING NEWS FROM HOME 

H er ability to hold her own in a quarrel, to- 
gether with her other accomplishments, had 
won for Sita the high esteem of the govern- 
ment wards. Yet, even had she been willing to over- 
look caste differences, their lethargic content, following 
their cruel suffering, and aggravated by the blasting 
heat, would have made them uncompanionable to the 
Rajputni. Time dragged. Even her buoyant spirits 
were not proof against the general depression born of 
bitter experience and fed by fresh tales of woe from 
the new girls who were daily added to their number. 
While cheered by the sight of the relief work going 
on about her, she could not forget the helpless state 
in which she had left her dear ones and the remem- 
brance brought with it heart-heaviness. In the three 
weeks that had passed since she had left them, no 
word from her parents had reached her ; and so, when 
on Friday evening, just after the relief worker had 
made her visit, Sita heard one of the children say that 
the Miss Sahib was going to the bazaar next day, she 
ran after her and asked permission to go with her. 
There may be some one from home,” she said. 

Miss Ray looked doubtful at the little girl’s sugges- 
36 


Seeking News from Home 37 

tion that any one would come eighty miles to the 
bazaar. But when the tears came to the child’s eyes, 
and when Mohun Lai, coming up with languid step, 
added his entreaties, she said, smiling: — - 

“They all want to go. But Why, yes; the 

boy needs an outing.” 

When she went on to say that he should go with 
her in the tonga, and that Sita might walk with some 
of the mission girls, the children were overjoyed. 

The weekly bazaar is in its growth like Jonah’s 
gourd. Although its site had been pointed out to 
Sita on the day that she and her brother had arrived 
in Arampur, the bazaar itself she had never seen. It 
was, therefore, with the greatest interest that she 
gazed, on Saturday afternoon, as she drew near the 
market place. “ Could it be the same,” she wondered 
as she called to mind the wide maidan [common] 
stretching from the river on the east to the first shop 
of the permanent bazaar on the west, and from the 
road back to the winding river again on the north. 
When they reached the bridge, however, she could see 
the shops far ahead, and there, just beyond the bridge, 
was the clump of trees where they had rested that 
day. Yet now she could catch only a glimpse of the 
river boundary to the north and nothing of the bare 
maidan, for to-day a throng of twenty thousand people 
met her eyes. 

From time immemorial, bazaar day in India has 
meant to the labourer a holiday, and his only respite 
from toil. Its significance to the people is evidenced 
by their presence. For in spite of famine and famine 


38 A King’s Daughter 

prices, in spite of choking dust and terrific heat, the 
crowd has come, afoot for the most part, from twenty 
miles around to attend the bazaar. Ostensibly they 
have come to trade, but in reality it is diversion and 
the social feature that attract the greater number. 

Sita and her companions — Amni, two of the mission 
girls, and an ayah — sit down under the clump of 
trees by the bridge, chatting merrily. But the Rajputni 
is not long content to stop on the outskirts of the 
gathering crowd, and the group moves on. While 
she scrutinizes the faces, there is little of the scene 
that escapes her delighted eyes. 

The bazaar is laid out something like a miniature 
town, in lots preempted for the half day by the saudo- 
gar [merchant]. One secures his lot, which may be 
four feet square, by taking possession. He usually 
places upon the ground a piece of bamboo matting 
and arranges on it his wares, behind which he squats. 
If enterprizing he may have a second piece of bamboo 
propped up at his back for a screen. The lots are in 
irregular rows, with very narrow streets between for 
the accommodation of customers. The saudogar may 
be a seller of cloth, cotton or silk, of grains and nuts, 
sweets, pottery, trinkets, or what not. 

No one is in haste at the bazaar. The crowd is 
there to see and, anyway, it is too hot to hurry. 

The children, however, were wide enough awake, 
and the ayah with the mission girls good-naturedly 
set her pace to suit theirs and wandered with them 
in and out from booth to booth. 

While Sita enjoyed the bazaar with the others, 


Seeking News from Home 39 

she did not forget her quest. She paid little attention 
to the women arrayed in green or red or blue saris, 
for it was not likely that any woman of her acquaint- 
ance would come so far. But she allowed no well- 
dressed man to escape her scrutiny, nor did she pass 
over the ill dressed. For in famine times her friends 
might be among the latter. Moreover, she was ready 
to give a servant or even a coolie joyful greeting, if 
only he came from home. Yet when the time came to 
meet Miss Ray at the shop her heart sank within her, 
for of the thousands of faces into which she had 
looked, none had looked back recognition. Reluctantly 
and with her eyes still busy, Sita followed the ayah and 
the girls as they made their way through the crowd. 

Once she got separated from the others, and Amni 
scolded; but Mohani, one of the mission girls, made 
excuses for her and kept near her thereafter. Per- 
haps,’^ she said presently, “ perhaps you are looking 
for some one ? ” 

And Sita, won by Mohani’s gentle sympathy, ex- 
plained to her what she had kept from the others, and 
felt comforted when her new friend, too, began to 
search the faces of the crowd. 

When at last the little party reached the place ap- 
pointed, Miss Ray had come and gone. She had, 
however, left Mohan Lai in the dukhan with the mes- 
sage that they were to wait her return. Since this 
dukhan was the first in the permanent bazaar, the ayah 
allowed the children to visit the booths in its shadow. 

The boy, though he wanted to see, soon grew tired. 
However, when a man passed flying a half-dozen red 


40 


A King’s Daughter 

and blue toy balloons he cried out with delight and 
drew Sita along after him. She looked at her brother’s 
joyous face, then gathering up a corner of her sari 
untied a knot in it and took out two pice [copper 
coins of the value of one-half cent each]. 

The ayah came to her assistance and began the usual 
dickering. But the eagerness of the boy, the large 
red banana in his hand, and the fresh saris of the 
girls — clean clothes and poverty are in India too often 
divorced — brought up the price of balloons, and it was 
not until Sita had proposed to seek another vendor that 
he came to terms. 

Mohan Lai, joyfully floating his red balloon, now 
followed his sister to a shady nook between the dukhan 
and a booth adjoining. It was an excellent place for 
observation, and with renewed diligence she set her- 
self to watch the stream of people passing from the 
one to the other booths. Her chosen nook was so close 
upon the street that beggars, looking upon the decent 
clothes and the clean faces of the girls, repeated the 
mistake of the balloon peddler and stopped to ask 
alms. 

The ayah sent them away, but Sita looked troubled, 
and when Mohan Lai stopped dangling his balloon to 
ask her why she did not give to them as their mother 
did, her face lighted up, and followed by the other 
children and the ayah, she crossed the street to a 
money changer’s booth. Assorted piles of rupees and 
smaller silver coins and a great heap of pice were 
displayed before him. But she had to go to another 
booth for her cowries [small shells used as money]. 


Seeking News from Home 41 

Returning with a hundred of these, for which she had 
given a pice, she smiled at the two waiting beggars 
as she gave each four or five cowries. They made 
an interesting picture, the little boy toying with his 
scarlet balloon, and the little girl with sweet happy 
face dispensing charity to the dirty, sad-faced mendi- 
cants, who went away blessing the children, and few 
were the passers-by whose faces did not brighten as 
they looked. 

One woman who asked help carried a basket upon 
her head, and when Sita looked at it inquiringly, she 
carefully set it down upon the ground, showing as its 
contents a little naked baby, fast asleep. 

‘‘ We have a baby at home, a big one,” said Sita, 
with a sigh. She gave the mother some extra cowries, 
and Mohan Lai put the banana Miss Ray had given 
him into the basket by the baby. 

His gift reminded his sister that he had carried 
the banana a half hour without tasting it, and she 
asked if he would not like some sweets. To this he 
assented, and with a pice in her hand she started at 
once to the candy vendor's, followed by Mohan Lai, 
Amni, and the other girls. 

But the ayah here interposed, saying that sweets 
were forbidden to ailing children. Sita protested, then 
threw her arm about her brother, whose chin began to 
quiver as he looked longingly at the sweets. She 
stood silent for a moment, when she became possessed 
of a sense of some one gazing at her. The comely 
group continually attracted attention, but she looked 
past admiring glances to fix her eyes upon a tall boy 


42 A King’s Daughter 

who was standing before a jewelry booth. He was 
just turning away, and she could not see his face, 
yet there was something about his manner and the 
way he wore his lemon-coloured silk pagri that struck 
her as familiar. At that moment two beggars, who 
had followed her up, claimed her attention, and when 
she turned again to the jewelry booth the customer 
in the yellow pagri had gone. Glancing quickly 
around, she caught a glimpse of him as he entered the 
first shop on the other side of the street. It was a 
tailor’s shop, six foot front, and two-thirds of this 
space was taken up by a line of brilliantly coloured 
chintz cassocks. When she saw him, the youth was 
already upon the steps of the dukhan and in an instant 
after was behind the screen of dangling ready-made 
garments. 

“ It looks like ” she began ; then turning to Mo- 

han Lai, said : Little brother, watch for some one 
from home. Watch hard ! ” 

I will, sister,” he replied, and letting his balloon 
float as it would he slowly turned himself about, look- 
ing in all directions. 

The position of the children near the candy booth 
enabled Sita to keep the tailor’s shop in view. But 
when customer after customer came, and standing out- 
side the shop in the usual fashion, haggled leisurely 
with the salesmen, then bought or went his way, she 
became weary of waiting for the reappearance of the 
one who had gone inside. 

There’s a man over there staring at us,” Amni 
whispered. 


Seeking News from Home 43 

“ Where ? ” the Rajputni eagerly inquired. But 
when she looked as directed and saw at the jeweller’s 
stall a dark youth wearing heavy gold earrings and a 
jauntily poised red fez, she could not keep her disap- 
pointment out of her voice, as she said : — 

Wah ! He’s a Mohammedan ! ” 

Are! Bapre! And did I say he was a Rajput?” 

‘‘ You know that Hindus have nothing to do with 
Mohammedans.” 

“ He seems to want to have something to do with 
our crowd.” 

Wah ! he’s only watching Mohan Lai and his bal- 
loon.” 

“ Sister, sister,” piped her brother’s shrill voice. 

There’s Ram Chandra on the steps ! There is your 
shad ” 

Chup [silence] ! ” said Sita as she took the child 
by the arm and turned him about. Yet her eyes 
showed no less excitement than his, for as he came out 
of the shop she, too, had seen the face of the youth 
in the yellow pagri. 

‘‘ Let me go to him,” pleaded Mohan Lai. 

‘‘ No, dear. We must wait. It is for him to seek 
us.” 

The other girls had been engaged in watching a 
snake charmer, so that only Amni had heard the little 
lad’s outcry. With an ejaculation of surprise she 
stood gazing at the youth, who after stopping an in- 
stant on the steps of the dukhan moved along the street 
on the opposite side. 

So that is her shadi-walla,” she commented, noting 


44 


A King’s Daughter 

his fair complexion, his haughty carriage, his drapery 
and embroidered pagri. He’s a Rajput, all right, 
and rich. He’s as tall as a man, but he’s got a boy’s 
face. Wah ! but she is blessed of fate.” 

Sita’s face had lighted up in recognition of the 
youth and she, too, watched until he crossed the street 
and stopped at a booth just beyond that of the jewel- 
ler. Then turning away, she looked for the ayah and 
the mission girls. 

She found them a little back from the street, form- 
ing a part of the circle about a half-dozen hooded 
cobras which were performing under the direction of 
their exhibitor. He held on his knee a rude sitar 
and to its soft soporific accompaniment the cobras 
were moving in languorous, graceful undulations. 

Sita and her brother joined the circle, while the little 
lad floated his balloon in measure with the music. 
The people in the vicinity, drawn by the sound of the 
sitar, had crowded about and were breathlessly watch- 
ing the exhibit. 

The Rajputni had only partially yielded to the spell, 
and when a low angry voice was projected into the 
stillness, she looked up to see Ram Chandra’s angry 
face but a short distance away. His eyes and his 
speech were, however, directed not toward her but 
toward the Mohammedan who was now between her 
and the Rajput. 

Will your honour, doing favour, please keep your 
eyes upon the serpents ? ” 

The reply was lost to Sita, but in a moment came 
the rejoinder. 


Seeking News from Home 45 

I am asking you to keep your eyes to yourself.” 
There was something more in a lower tone. 

“ Wah ! and why ” the Mohammedan replied 

with a disdainful sound. ‘‘If people do not want their 
women folk admired they’d better keep them in the 
zenanas as we do.” 

“You do not shut up children ; and — Rajputs are 
not taking instruction from Mussulmans. You’d bet- 
ter ” 

“ Better what ? ” There was mocking defiance in 
the speaker’s voice and he stared impudently at the 
girls. 

Sita had not understood the conversation and she 
had all her life been used to admiration, yet she now 
felt uncomfortable. She gave no sign, however, but 
moving nearer to Mohani and farther from the boys, 
she fixed her gaze intently upon the undulating cobras. 
Almost immediately, however, the exhibitor varied the 
performance, and while he asked for pice, his assistant 
stirred up one of the reptiles, causing it to dart at the 
stick with open mouth and quivering tongue, while 
its eyes glared with fury. The demand for money, 
no less than the ceasing of the music, broke the charm 
that held the people and they began to disperse. 

“ We’re too far from the dukhan,” said the ayah, 
and Sita, flinging her few remaining cowries to the 
snake charmer, arose with her companions. Although 
she had received from Ram Chandra no look of recog- 
nition, she did not doubt that he had seen and would 
seek her out, and with her brother she again lingered 
behind the girls. She was greatly vexed, therefore, 


46 A King’s Daughter 

when she had gone but a little way, to come upon Amni 
chatting with a dealer in glass bangles. 

I was afraid you were lost again and came back 
to look for you,’' she explained, her eyes dancing with 
mischief. She looked beyond the Rajput children, 
then, admiring the pretty glass bangles the saleswoman 
was holding up to the light, she said : I do wish the 
Miss Sahib would get us some bangles. I think she 
might ! ” 

Pig! ” ejaculated Sita with emphasis, glad of the 
opportunity to vent her wrath. 

Wah ! These are only glass, and she has lacs and 
lacs of rupees.” 

“ Pig ! She has not, and she gives everything to 
our starving people.” 

Amni’s eyes flashed. “ You ” she began, then 

stopped short. She was facing Sita and the stalls be- 
yond, and she now exclaimed: Are t how that Mus- 
sulman did jump.” 

Mussulmans do not like swine, nor do I.” 

But Amni did not hear. '' Bapre hap!'' she cried, 
“ but your Rajput is mad. He looks like he could kill 
the Mussulman. Wah ! He’s going off now.” 

‘‘What matter?” Yet it was with a sinking heart 
Sita turned to look after Ram Chandra. Could he 
be leaving and without one word to her ? She breathed 
again when he stopped under a tree. 

Are! but that Mohammedan can stare,” Amni now 
observed. 

“ Wah! Why, then, do you look at him ? What can 
it matter what the Mohammedan does ? ” answered 


Seeking News from Home 47' 

Sita crossly. Nevertheless she turned her back, and 
after a moment led her brother to the second booth, 
where the ayah waited with Mohani and Parbatti. 

Something is going to happen,” whispered Amni 
excitedly a little later. I saw a man come to your — 
to the Rajput under the tree, and he talked to him 
and frowned at the Mohammedan and he gave the man 
rupees — six — eight — ten rupees he poured from his 
pice bag ! ” 

“ Indeed ? It is certainly strange that people should 
talk and spend money in a bazaar.” 

Sita’s unconcern dampened Amni’s ardour, and she 
gave her attention to the brass plates that the ayah 
was examining. 

Mohan Lai, however, was keeping watch. 

“ Sister,” he said presently, “ he has come back 
and they’ve both come over to the bangle shop.” 

It is no matter, little brother. Did you see that 
pretty urn? It has cobras for handles.” 

But the boy was not to be diverted. 

“ He’s got his hand full of rupees,” he commented. 

A true word,” confirmed Amni, looking. 

At that moment a man in the distance was heard 
calling: “ Flesh of goats here — flesh of goats for sale.” 

It was unusual, this crying of flesh in a land where 
the priests regard meat eaters much as Europeans do 
cannibals, and with the meat peddler as a pretext Sita 
seized the opportunity to look in Ram Chandra’s direc- 
tion. He, too, with his back to the booth, was looking 
down the street. She felt the gaze of the Moham- 
medan, but the more fixedly kept her eyes upon the 


48 A King’s Daughter 

meatman, who was now fast approaching. As the 
latter neared the jeweller’s booth, Ram Chandra, 
yawning, stretched himself, extending both arms high 
above his head, and the little girl observed that his 
right hand held a number of rupees. As she looked 
the peddler called out : — 

“ Flesh of hogs for sale, flesh of hogs ! ” 

At this the Mohammedan, who had before given 
no heed to his cries, started violently and looked to- 
ward him. 

The meat vendor had left the middle of the road 
and was close at hand. Over the edge of his basket, 
which was covered with a cloth, hung a small hairy 
foot. 

“ Curse the infidel ! It is a hog ! ” the Mussulman 
shrieked, then looked about for a way to escape. But 
everywhere the crowd pressed, and in desperation he 
darted out just in front of the peddler and dashed up 
the street. 

The Rajput, a queer smile mingling with his frown, 
was close behind. As Sita watched she was amazed 
to see Amni scampering up the street with other ex- 
cited children. Mohan Lai was tugging at her hand, 
and for a moment she was swayed by a strong impulse 
to follow. Then she drew back, saying : — 

No, brother. I am a Rajputni, and his No.” 

“ Look, sister, what ails the gosht-wallaf ” 

The meat peddler had stopped in the street a little 
beyond them and she observed that he was ashy pale. 
When he started on he did not cry his wares, and she 
looked at the basket in vain for the hairy foot. 


Seeking News from Home 49 

Miss Ray's tonga was now approaching and the 
ayah hurried the children to the dukhan. Upon hear- 
ing the report of Amni's truancy, the missionary des- 
patched the ayah to look for her where a crowd had 
congregated. And, after making a few purchases, she 
herself followed with the other children. 

Sita paid little attention to the many shops they 
passed, and before they reached the corner her eyes had 
lighted upon Amni, who, heedless of the ayah^s en- 
treaties, stood eagerly listening to a bareheaded lad 
who was talking breathlessly and pointing down the 
alley. 

The culprit, when she saw Miss Ray, came at once 
with profuse apologies and made no demur when the' 
relief worker told her that she could no longer go with 
the ayah but must remain with her. 

Sita followed Miss Ray and Amni into a shop to 
hear the girl's story. 

She told how she had kept near the Rajput until he 
reached the corner; that the wearer of the red fez, 
whose name she had learned was Abdul Khan, had 
gone a little farther and was talking angrily with a 
group of Mohammedans until the meatman came along, 
when he cried out and ran towards him. 

“ The meatman was passing me and I saw him stop 
by Ram Chandra, and his hand was shaking. Wah! 
but he was scared. But your — the Rajput spoke 
to him, and he cried out again, ‘ Hog meat.' Then 
the red fez stopped jhatpat [instantly] and the gosht- 
walla ran dowm the alley." 

Amni went on to say that she had heard the Rajput 


50 


A King’s Daughter 

tell Abdul Khan that it was all a joke and that it 
was goat’s meat the man had and a goat’s foot; that 
the Mohammedan was furious and had dared him to 
fight, and they had run down the alley, followed by 
the crowd. 

“ They’re at it now, the boy was telling me. Ain’t 
you afraid ? ” 

‘‘Afraid of what?” 

“ For your The Mohammedan is the big- 

gest.” 

“ Wah ! Did not Rama in the Ramayana conquer 
every enemy? I should despise him if he let that ” 

“ Sepoy! Sepoy [police] ! ” yelled some one out- 
side. 

In an instant Sita was at the door. Then seeing 
Parbatti and Mohani standing with the ayah at the 
little cloth store on the corner, she seized her brother’s 
hand and hurried out to join them. She was just in 
time to see two sepoys in the regulation blue cotton uni- 
forms turn the corner and walk rapidly down the 
alley. A curve soon hid them from view, but Sita 
noted that the shouts ceased even before the sepoys 
were out of her sight, and at once the crowd came 
pouring out of the narrow street. 

“ Sister, you are hurting me,” exclaimed Mohan 
Lai. “ Are you afraid ? ” 

Sita let go his hand, and after apologizing, said : — 

“ I am afraid of disgrace.” 

“ They did not get him,” cried the boy, as a little 
later the officers came into view. 

“ They got the Mussulman, though, and he has eaten 


Seeking News from Home 51 

punishment/' exclaimed his sister, looking at the soiled 
clothes and bleeding face of the youth. 

When near the mouth of the alley the prisoner 
begged for a hearing, and in a niche where the little 
shop joined the back-yard wall of the adjoining prem- 
ises, the little party stopped. 

From her post of observation, Sita heard the sepoys 
roughly order off the stragglers who began to collect 
about them ; but to her gratification they gave no heed 
to the children on the corner. 

Of the prisoner’s story, as he gesticulated angrily, 
pounding the dust from his red fez, she heard little 
except Rajput ” and ‘‘ hog.” But the men’s voices 
carried better. 

I say, Mopat, let him go. It was only a boy’s 
squabble,” said the older man, whose beard showed 
him to be a Mohammedan. 

Nay, Yuseph,” replied Mopat. “ We’ve taken 
him and we deserve the credit.” 

Then we’ll have credit for two. One of his caste 
people let the Hindu into his back yard, no doubt; 
but we’ll find him and jail him. He was the real 
culprit. He was in with that hog peddler, sure.” 

Owl, he was not; and, if he was, there was no 
hog. Did we not examine the basket and find a 
goat’s foot ? ” 

It’s not proved, infidel, that that was the basket, 
and even so it was no little joke. I’ll raise every Mus- 
sulman in the city with the story. We’ll teach you 
infidel idolators ” Yuseph here poured out a vol- 

ley of abuse which so engaged his companion that 


52 A King’s Daughter 

he did not notice Abdul Khan as he walked softly 
away, the thick dust muffling all sound of his steps. 

“ He — he’s gone,” gasped the Hindu sepoy when he 
made the discovery. 

‘‘ Yes, brother, both have escaped us.” The Mus- 
sulman smiled complacently. 

“ Wah ! It was only a boy’s squabble and quite un- 
worthy of notice.” 

‘‘ Perhaps, Mopat. But less fire has caused a con- 
flagration. There might have been a riot.” 

“ It was not a hog’s foot — it was not hog meat.” 

“ Who knows ? And to quell a riot means great 
honour, promotion perhaps. We’d better hunt up these 
prisoners — especially the Rajput, the ringleader in the 
fray.” 

“ Nay, brother, they were only boys. And they’ll 
take care to keep out of sight the rest of the day.” 

The sepoys moved on, talking more amicably. 

Hai, hai! ‘ Keep out of sight ’ ! ” repeated Sita, 
with a troubled brow. “ Then how are we to hear 
from father? ” 

When the time came for the girls to go. Miss Ray, 
hearing Sita’s story, said that she might wait and 
return with her. The half hour’s respite, however, 
resulted in disappointment, and from their seats in 
the tonga, the Rajput children, while they drove the 
length of the bazaar, still anxiously scanned the faces 
of the throng: of the many in the street, now moving 
homeward; of others who still tarried for gossip, for 
the abatement of the heat, and for the rising of the 
moon. 


Seeking News from Home 53 

They were nearing the bridge at the end of the 
bazaar, when the sound of music arrested their atten- 
tion. 

‘‘ What is that ? ” asked Mohan Lai, as they looked 
towards the clump of trees from which the sounds 
came. 

Miss Ray explained that the instrument was a vio- 
lin and that the player was Mr. Ashley, the Padre 
Sahib. 

Sister, there he is,” joyfully cried the little lad, 
a moment later. There he is ! under the tree ! 
Ram ” 

Hush, brother; not so loud.” 

But Ram Chandra, though he sat in the outskirts 
of the company near the road, did not seem to hear. 

Stop, gariwan,” requested Miss Ray in a clear, dis- 
tinct tone. “ We want to hear the music.” 

Sita had never before heard such music and it held 
her entranced. But when the tall, dark-haired player 
put down his violin and began to talk, she glanced at 
Ram Chandra. His attention was still given to the 
missionary, and looking back she saw ten or twelve 
village men standing before him. One of them was 
speaking. 

'' Good, Sahib ; we are ready to become Christians. 
Our gods are angry and of hunger we die. Give us 
work and we will join your caste. We will be Chris- 
tians; we will eat your food and wear your clothes.” 

The missionary lifted his hand and shook his head, 
while he replied : — 

“ Nay, brother. We will surely give you work and 


54 


A King’s Daughter 

look after your families until the famine is over. But 
to become Christians is quite a different matter.’" 

Mr. Ashley took up his violin and played again, 
while a half-dozen well-grown boys sang with him 
a song, the refrain of which was : — 

Bhesh badla kya, dil ka badalna chahiya.” 

[To change the clothes is of what use? To change the heart 
is the necessary thing.] 

As they sang Sita saw Ram Chandra start and 
frown, and then noted that he no longer wore his scar- 
let sash and that he had exchanged his yellow pagri 
for a white one. 

After listening longer he must have concluded, the 
little girl thought, that the song had no personal ap- 
plication, for his brow cleared. The youth’s position 
allowed him to include the tonga in his field of vision. 
Yet — he gave no sign of recognition; and when Sita 
presently saw that he was giving his attention to an 
old man at his side, she asked Miss Ray to wait no 
longer. But even as she spoke she saw that her brother 
had left the tonga and was running toward Ram 
Chandra. 

“ Mohan Lai,” she cried; but the little fellow only 
ran the faster. 

‘‘ Miss Sahib- ji,” she said in much excitement, ‘‘ he 
would not speak to us, and — and my brother has 
gone to him. Oh, the shame of it ! Call him, please, 
call him back.” 

‘‘ Very well, daughter. I will send the driver for 


Seeking News from Home 55 

him.’’ However, seeing that the youth was talking to 
the child, she delayed a little. 

“ Miss Sahib- ji,” she entreated, with the hand that 
lay in her lap tightly clinched, he will think that I 
sent him.” 

When the driver was coming back with the boy, the 
latter called out : “ Oh, sister, they are not starved. 
Mother and father are well.” 

Sita, without a look toward Ram Chandra, took her 
sobbing brother into her arms; and when the tonga 
went on, soothed him with tender words. After 
he became quiet, she sat for a time silent, then 
said : — 

“If Mohan Lai had not run off we would have had 
no news — ^not one word. He is cruel, cruel.” 

“ My dear,” Miss Ray replied, “ is it the custom for 
a young man to talk to his betrothed ? ” 

“ No, Miss Sahib-ji; but he never cared for the cus- 
tom. He always used to speak to me.” 

They now came upon the ayah and the girls resting 
by the roadside, and when the tonga stopped for a 
moment Amni approached Sita and asked in a loud 
whisper if the Prince had escaped and if he had con- 
descended to speak to his Princess. 

“ Of course,” answered Sita quietly. “ And he says 
that father is better and that mother and the baby are 
well.” 

“ My dear,” protested Miss Ray when they had 
started on, “ my dear ! ” 

“ Must I tell all my shame to that low-caste ? 

And it is not the custom.” 


56 


A King’s Daughter 

She stopped, then looking uncomfortable, said : I 
will walk now, Miss Sahib-ji — with your girls.’^ 

All right. Send Amni to take your place. And, 
daughter, don’t forget your good news.” 

“ My father is better,” said Sita softly, while a smile 
drove the frown from her face. 


V 


A NEW PUPIL 

S ITA’S determination to keep from Amni the 
knowledge that Ram Chandra had utterly ig- 
nored her presence in the bazaar, incited her to 
unusual efforts at cheerfulness. The good news from 
her people was a help in this direction as was the 
romantic interest with which the girls now regarded 
her. For Amni had reported what she had seen and 
heard of the young Rajput, and the story lost nothing 
in the telling. In fact it raised the youth to the status 
of a hero, and naturally his betrothed shared in his 
exaltation. All this pleased the high-born child and 
her demeanour gave no hint of her secret. Yet the 
thought of the tahsildar's son invariably revived in her 
feelings of anger and mortification. 

Her unhappy state of mind made her impatient of 
present conditions and contributed, together with Mo- 
hani’s talk on the day they had walked home together 
from the bazaar, to increase her eagerness for school 
and a new order of things. 

When the promised day came, therefore, she was 
up betimes and ready at six o’clock to start. But when 
a little later she would have joined the orphanage 
girls as they passed, the matron informed her that 
57 


58 A King’s Daughter 

the government wards would not go for another half 
hour. To her inquiries as to why she might not go, 
she received the unsatisfactory reply that it was the 
Miss Sahib’s hukam [order]. 

When at last the group of government wards ap- 
proached the schoolhouse — a long one-story, plastered 
building with verandas on all sides — they heard the 
girls singing. The singing ceased as they entered the 
chapel, and the pupils passed at once to their recita- 
tion rooms. While Miss Ray conferred with the pri- 
mary teacher, whose large class remained in the chapel, 
Sita and her brother were enjoying the coloured pic- 
tures of birds which formed a frieze on three sides 
of the room. 

Afterward Miss Ray took them to her office, where 
she questioned the little girl as to her attainments. 

And you have never been to school ? ” commented 
the teacher. 

'' No, yes. Miss Sahib-ji. We have no girls’ school 
in Raj Gaon; but my father is head master of the 
boys’ school, and he used to take me with him when I 
was little. I learned my letters there and afterward 
I learned at home.” 

Your father is a wise, good man.” 

“ The wisest and best in all the world.” Sita’s lips 
trembled. 

“ Well, Sita, you may try Karunabai’s room. But 
you will have to do some extra work if you stay there.” 

‘‘ And my brother. Miss Sahib-ji, what shall he 
do?” 

‘‘ Why,” answered Miss Ray, smiling at the boy, 


59 


A New Pupil 

he does not look strong yet. Let him do what he 
likes. He may stay with you or go back to see the 
bird pictures; or he may go out with the class under 
the trees, where there are real birds.’' 

“ Very, very good, Miss Sahib-ji.” 

The little lad elected to go outside and the missionary 
conducted his sister to a pleasant recitation room, 
where fourteen girls, from nine to sixteen years old, 
with books and slates, were seated, upon the cement 
floor, upon strips of bamboo matting. 

The teacher, Karunabai, an alert, winsome young 
woman, welcomed Sita and, giving her a Fourth Read- 
ing Book, designated the lesson and bade her be seated. 

The child salaamed to both teachers, then looked 
about her expectantly. At sight of the welcoming 
smiles on Parbatti’s homely, and Mohani’s attractive, 
face she smiled in return; then sitting down near the 
latter, began to read aloud, swaying her body as she 
read. Presently realizing that all were quiet except 
herself, she stopped, and looked up to find all eyes 
upon her. 

The munshine [teacher] motioned to Mohani, and 
the soft-eyed girl explained in a low tone : “ Sister, it 
is not our custom to read aloud.” 

Wahl — how — it’s such a strange school ! ” Sita an- 
swered, perplexed ; and then she sat curiously watching 
the girls while they read silently. 

In the geography lesson, which was on Rajputana, 
Sita was delighted, but she looked on helplessly when 
the girls began to write rapidly from dictation; and 
the arithmetic lesson in complex fractions was quite 


6o 


A King’s Daughter 

beyond her understanding. Her face clouded over, 
and when Karunabai came to her after school, she said 
despondingly : — 

‘‘ I can never learn that, Munshine-ji, and I shall not 
be here long and I want to learn.” 

“ And why not, little sister ? Ray Miss Sahib thinks 
you can make up the arithmetic with outside help. 
You read beautifully and you know more about Raj- 
putana than any of the other girls.” 

“ My father taught me,” said Sita, smiling. ‘‘ He 
says that a king’s daughter should know all about her 
country.” 

“ Good. And should not a king’s daughter know 
arithmetic? ” 

Although Sita looked doubtful, Karunabai went to 
her table, about which the bevy of girls had collected, 
to ask for volunteer tutors. 

“Amni is in the next room below,” thought Sita, 

with a frown, “ and Mohani here and ” Her eyes 

were arrested by a motto on the wall, ‘‘ God is love,” 
and then the girls laughing and crying out that they 
wanted to help her, came toward her with the mun- 
shine. And at that moment Miss Ray, with beaming 
face, appeared at the door. 

“ It is the loving caste,” Sita said to herself, and then 
aloud: “ Miss Sahib- ji, I want to stay in Karunabai’s 
room. May I not stay without studying arith- 
metic? ” 

And when the teacher, still smiling, shook her head, 
the little girl replied: — 

“ I hate arithmetic; but if I may stay here I will try 


A New Pupil 6i 

to learn it with body and mind [/an man sel. A king^s 
daughter ought to know everything.’’ 

‘‘ Good talk,” said the munshine. 

“ Good talk,” repeated Miss Ray. ‘‘ That is the way 
to learn everything.” 

That evening Amni was ripe for another quarrel. 
Vexed that Sita had been placed above her in school 
and miffed at her little airs of superiority, she re- 
pented her generosity to her rival in singing the praises 
of her betrothed, and she determined to check her 
increasing popularity. 

She began after the six o’clock dinner, while a group 
of the children were sitting in the long shadow of one 
of the mud houses. Sita had been telling a story, and 
before the girls had voiced their pleasure Amni sharply 
criticised the tale as told, and when the story teller 
was silent, returned to the subject of the old quarrel. 
She had her doubts about that marriage; she had not 
seen the Rajput speak to Sita, and she did not believe 
that he did speak to her. 

The Rajputni’s face was ashen with anger. She 
most emphatically declared that the youth was the boy 
to whom her parents had married her. When her 
brother had confirmed her words, she began to reit- 
erate what she had before said to Amni in regard 
to her interview with the tahsildar's son, when memory 
brought before her Miss Ray’s surprised, pained face, 
and again she heard her words of remonstrance. 

You may believe what you please,” she said after 
a short silence. ‘‘ I promised our Miss Sahib that I 


62 


A King’s Daughter 

would not quarrel and I shall not break my promise for 
any low-caste girl.” And unheeding her adversary’s 
wrathful retort, she walked proudly away to the clump 
of palm trees. 

The encounter, however, did not result in a victory 
for Amni, for she had herself accepted Sita’s story for 
true; and the girls took her insinuation — which was 
only a random thrust — as sheer spite work. Besides 
they were all under bonds to Miss Ray to keep the 
peace, and some of them felt that it took courage to 
stop a quarrel when it was under way. 

Yet Amni’s thrust had gone home. It brought to 
Sita so keen a recollection of bazaar day that she en- 
dured again the pain and chagrin which Ram Chan- 
dra’s conduct had caused her. It opened up again her 
wounds and it reopened the question as to the sig- 
nificance of the incident. As she moved restlessly 
among the palm trees, pondering the problem, the 
solution she had given to herself and to Miss Ray 
failed to satisfy her; yet she could find no other. 
Moreover, she felt that in some way she had come to 
occupy a false position before the girls. And so while 
they talked in groups, or played in the short twilight, 
she remained alone in bitterness of spirit. 

When a little later her brother came to her, she 
fondled him with more than her usual tenderness. 
And when there came the sound of singing, and he 
said eagerly, It is the mission girls,” she went with 
him to the edge of the clump of trees and looked to- 
ward the high brick wall which surrounded the or- 
phanage, and toward the buildings which arose dimly 


A New Pupil 63 

beyond. The evening songs of the orphanage girls 
had for the children the delight of novelty, for they 
had never heard a chorus ; and to-night the glad young 
voices rising in strange melodies or familiar bhajans 
were like balm to Sita's sore heart. 

“ To-morrow, little brother,” she said as she took 
the child to bed, ‘‘ to-morrow we are to go to school 
again with those singing girls who are not always 
quarrelling. And I shall learn everything — just like a 
boy.” 


VI 


MURTI PUJA 

^^XXTHAT are you making, Sita?*' Miss Ray 

^ Y asked one day as she saw the little girl 
intently at work upon a bit of clay. 

I am making a murat [image].” 

Why, child ” Miss Ray began, then stopped 

abruptly. 

“ It is many days since we have done pitja [wor- 
ship], my brother and I; so I have asked the cook to 
give me half of our dal that [peas and rice], un- 
cooked, that we may make an offering to turn away 
the anger of the gods.” She paused a moment, then 
as Miss Ray said nothing, asked : Do you think the 
rains will break soon ? ” 

‘‘ I trust so, daughter ; there may be news any day 
now of rains in Colombo. You know the rains there 
break two weeks before they do here.” 

‘‘ Yes, I know. Miss Sahib- ji, you do not do mtirti 
puja [image worship] ? ” 

“ No, daughter.” 

“ Why not? What is the Jesus worship? I would 
like to know about your gods.” The girl's eyes were 
wide and earnest. 

“ My dear child, I cannot tell you. We teach our 
64 


Murti Puja 65 

orphanage girls because they are to stay here and are 
given us to do with as we think best. But you chil- 
dren who are government wards are here for only a 
short time ; your parents will come for you before very 
long.’’ 

“ Ji, after the rains come,” assented Sita. 

Well, they will want you back with your caste 
unbroken and your religion unchanged ; and I promised 
the Great Sahib [the Deputy Commissioner] that I 
would not teach you the Jesus religion.” 

“ Will you not please sing me the song I heard the 
Padre Sahib and the mission boys singing in the 
bazaar? ” 

‘‘No, dear, I cannot; that would be breaking my 
promise; it is that you may not hear the songs of 
Jesus that I have you government wards come to school 
a half hour late in the mornings.” The relief worker 
looked troubled and the child disappointed. 

“ How would the Great Sahib know ? ” 

“ He might not know ; but he knew when I gave 
my promise that I would keep it. And, daughter, I 
would know, and God, the great God, would know.” 
As she spoke the clear grey eyes of the teacher looked 
deep into the hazel eyes of the child. 

“ I’ll tell you what I’ll do, daughter,” Miss Ray said 
after a moment’s thought. “ I want to teach my re- 
ligion to you, to everybody. It is life — ^there, I must 
not talk now. But when your father and mother come 
for you and your brother, bring them to me, and I will 
tell to you all, the words, and sing to you the songs of 
Jesus.” 


66 


A King’s Daughter 

"‘Very good; I will, Miss Sahib-ji.’’ 

“ And, dear child, do you not remember that Ram 
Chandra was a lover of truth? ” 

“ Ram Chandra ? Oh, you mean in the Ramayana. 
But he was a god/^ 

“ Do you know nobody who always speaks the 
truth ? ” 

“ Ji; my father.’’ 

“ Then let his daughter speak the truth.” 

“ But girls — women folk ” 

“ Girls and women folk, too, every one should speak 
only the truth.” 

As the teacher went on her way the child thought- 
fully resumed her self-imposed task of moulding the 
clay into shape. 


VII 


FAMINE 

1^ AIN in Colombo. The monsoon has broken 

1^ in Colombo.” In these headlines the Al- 
lahabad Pioneer announced its joyful mes- 
sage. 

And then India held her breath for ten days. Would 
the rains break at the usual time? or would they come 
so late as to ruin the rice crop, as they did last year? 
or would they fail entirely, as they did the year 
before? 

While the people waited they prayed in hope and 
agonizing fear. Millions addressed their prayers to 
Siva, the Hindu ruler of the elements, or to some other 
of the multitude of Hindu gods. Other millions 
prayed to Allah in the name of Mohammed. And 
a few entreated the Christian’s God in the name of 
His all-compassionate Son. And God, the All-Father, 
heard the prayers of all of His children. 

The ten days of interval were dreadful days. The 
heat, which had been intense before, now became in- 
tolerable. The sun blazed all the day long; and all 
the weary night the earth gave out her heat — the accu- 
mulated heat of three years. The night air, which 
had before held some coolness, now became stifling 
67 


68 


A King’s Daughter 

because of the clouds, which day after day gathered 
volume. All India slept out of doors; or lay restless 
and panting, watching the darkening, piling, hope- 
laden clouds. And in the morning the people arose and 
moved wearily to their appointed tasks. 

The famine-stricken continued to pour into the re- 
lief stations, those who had held out long and those 
who lived far away from the centres of aid, coming 
with their vitality exhausted. Some of these died on 
the very day of their arrival; others lingered only to 
succumb later to the slightest exposure, or to the light- 
est attack of disease. There were so many deaths that 
in some localities bodies lay for days unburied; and 
in the interior, beyond the pale of foreign supervision, 
conditions were far worse. This fact was made mani- 
fest when, the next cold season, the government of- 
ficials, in making their inspection tours, and the mis- 
sionaries their evangelistic tours, came upon bleaching 
bones in appalling numbers — bones of human beings, 
for whom the vultures, efficient aids to the mehatars,^ 
had performed the last rites. 

The strain upon the diminishing corps of foreign 
relief workers became unbearable, and every day 
brought reports of the illness and death of mission- 
aries and officials. Among the latter, in remote dis- 
tricts, were cases of suicide, and in both classes in- 
stances of insanity. 

Many missionaries in the famine districts now gave 
their entire time to relief work; among them Mr. 
Ashley, who employed hundreds in the construction of 

* The mehatar is the sweeper or scavenger caste. 


Famine 


69 

a school chapel. Miss Ray had enlarged her school- 
house and was now completing an addition to the 
girls’ orphanage. 

Both the girls’ and the boys’ orphanages in Aram- 
pur had been full for weeks and many unfriended lit- 
tle ones had been sent from this to other mission sta- 
tions. The government wards increased until they 
numbered several hundred. Succour coming too late 
in many cases, death was a frequent visitor among 
the rescued children, and many who lived remained 
weak and sickly. 

Dr. Doran, the medical missionary, found it neces- 
sary, at this time, to work night and day. 

It was her wont, in case she could manage it, to 
take with her when she went to visit patients two 
or three of these ailing ones. And one day, soon 
after the bursting of the monsoon in Colombo, Sita 
and her brother were the privileged children. For 
with the advance of the hot season, Mohan Lai began 
again to droop. 

During this drive his thin face lighted with glad- 
ness; for in spite of the scorching winds and the 
baked grey earth of the barren rice fields, there was 
much to enjoy. The large green trees that bordered 
the roads tempered the fierce heat of the sun and 
softened its glare, and he could look from beneath the 
white top of the tonga, far away over the plains. 

Then, when in the outskirts of the town, the tonga 
stopped for a moment or two on a knoll, from which 
was a view of the low hills where lived his people. 
The children were talking of home when the doctor 


70 A King’s Daughter 

stopped to make a call, and when she returned to the 
tonga the little lad was struggling with tears. Her 
own eyes grew moist as she marked in his wan face 
the signs of that cruel disease, so pathetic to see in 
little children, homesickness; and when Sita, having 
put aside her own heartache, had assured her brother 
that their father would come soon to take them home, 
the physician who had been in India but eighteen 
months began for diversion to ask questions about the 
birds and trees, and soon both children were blithely 
chatting. 

Yet the drive was to have in it more of pain than 
pleasure. The meeting with wretched famine sufferers 
was depressing enough, yet, because of the children’s 
familiarity with such sights, bearable; but once they 
passed the corpse of a man and again that of a woman 
lying unburied by the side of the road. At these 
times Dr. Doran had endeavoured to draw the atten- 
tion of her charges to something else, and had suc- 
ceeded with the boy. 

‘‘ Children, shut your eyes,” she cried suddenly, 
when on the way back. 

But the warning came too late, for at that instant 
Mohan Lai cried out in terror and buried his face in 
his sister’s dress. She held him close, but for an 
instant was unable to withdraw her fascinated gaze 
from a body of men coming up a crossroad. In that 
instant there was indelibly impressed upon her brain 
a dreadful sight. It was a nondescript funeral pro- 
cession, such as may be seen only in certain regions 
in times of pestilence or famine. There were twenty 


Famine 


71 


or more of the men paired off, each couple carrying 
between them a substitute for a bier — a bamboo pole 
to which was tied by the neck and knees an almost 
naked fleshless corpse. To add to the horror, the pall- 
bearers chattered loudly, quarrelling or laughing as 
they walked. 

Cruel, were they, and inhuman? Perhaps. Never- 
theless, that they could laugh, that they could become 
so far deadened to the horrors of their occupation is 
a merciful provision of nature to save the reason of 
these mehatars whose caste makes it their business to 
bury the outcast and the friendless. And should these 
scavengers fail, India might be depopulated; for, to 
men of good caste it is forbidden to touch the dead 
of any outside of their own caste group. 

When the funeral procession had passed, Sita asked 
with trembling lips: — 

“Are there Brahmans there, and — Rajputs? Oh! 
Miss Sahib- ji, they will be low-caste in their next 
birth, or dogs, or 

“ They are low-caste,’^ answered the physician, ad- 
ministering a palliative dose which in her own case 
could have no power. 

Sita drew a sigh of relief and soon began to second 
the physician’s attempts to cheer her brother. This 
time they were not so successful as before, and when 
the drive was over and Sita was leading the lad away, 
she heard Dr. Doran draw a heavy sigh and stopped to 
look back. She echoed the sigh, and nodded her head 
in assent when she heard her say in wearying, pitying 
tones to her assistant : — 


72 


A King’s Daughter 

‘‘ Phul Kuarbai, it was too horrible. I shall take 
out no more children with me until this dreadful 
famine is over.” 

The third night following the drive, as Sita lay 
restless and only half asleep, the sound of subdued 
voices aroused her into wakefulness. In the moon- 
light she saw the forms of two women coming from 
the direction of the orphanage. They were picking 
their way with care that they might not disturb the 
three hundred children who lay on the ground asleep. 
When they had come near, she recognized Miss Ray 
and Phul Kuarbai, and she heard the latter say : — 

She is pagal [crazy].” 

You mean delirious? ” 

No, Miss Sahib, quite, quite pagal/' 

When they had gone the little girl sat up, looked to 
see that her brother was asleep, then arose and, draw- 
ing about her her sari, which served for night as well 
as day attire, followed after them, past the sleeping 
children, over the border of the compound and into 
the hospital grounds. Her bare feet made no sound, 
and unnoticed she stopped in the shadow of a tree not 
far from a cot by the side of which she saw Dr. 
Doran. 

Sita saw that the doctor raised her hand and that 
the two approaching women waited. Some one on the 
cot was muttering sleepily while the physician gently 
rubbed her hands. When she had grown quiet Phul 
Kuarbai took the doctor's place and the latter went a 
little way outside to talk to Miss Ray. Very soon the 


Famine 


73 

patient started up with a wild cry, pushing her at- 
tendant aside. 

‘‘ Where is my baby ? What have you done with 
my baby ? ’’ She went on talking, and presently Sita 
heard her say : “ The others starved, all of them, 
father, mother, husband, and children, all but my 
baby. 

“ Wah, I know now/' she said, growing quiet. I 
saved him ; I would not let him die of hunger." 

Where is he, bai ? " asked Dr. Doran. 

Where is he ? Safe enough. I ate him, killed and 
ate him." She fell back on the cot exhausted. 

Good God ! " exclaimed the physician, under her 
breath. 

'' Ram, Ram," moaned Sita. She had now come 
close to hear. 

Merciful heavens I " cried Dr. Doran, looking at 
Sita and putting her hand to her head. Can none 
of the horrors be kept from the children? " 

Miss Ray looked from the physician to the child; 
then said quietly: — 

‘‘ These horrible stories cannot be true ; the woman 
is delirious." 

“ Indeed, Miss Sahib-ji," Phul Kuarbai began, “ I 

have heard the like " But at a sign from Miss Ray 

she stopped. 

Sita was trembling. 

“ I, too, have heard it in our district " she began. 

‘‘ My dear child," interrupted the teacher, you 
should not be here. I will take you back when I have 
put the doctor to bed. She is herself ill." 


74 


A King’s Daughter 

Doctor Doran protested that she could not leave her 
patient and that she had only a sun headache. 

‘‘ And no wonder, with all this work and your ex- 
posure to the sun, and this your first hot season on 
the plains. Come, my dear, you must rest. We’ll call 
the civil surgeon for this patient.” 

And reluctantly the physician allowed herself to be 
led away. Her face, usually pale, was red, very red, 
Sita noticed as they passed her. 

When Miss Ray came out she put her arm about the 
little girl and walked with her a few moments, talking 
hopefully of the famine, while the still, shadowy night 
fulfilled its soothing mission. 

The doctor is very ill, is she not ? ” questioned Sita. 

She has fever. I must take her to the hills where 
it is cool. 

Dear child,” said the teacher finally, forget that 
sick woman’s wild words. She does not know what 
she says. And, my dear ” 

Yes, Miss Sahib-ji.” 

“ Do not repeat this sorrowful story to the girls. 
I must keep them as happy as possible, and I want 
you for my little helper. Tell your gayest stories now 
until the rains come.” 

Can I be your helper ? ” asked the child, delighted. 

But when she was left alone, the face of the insane 
woman would come before her, and the funeral pro- 
cession. She tried to think of stories to tell the girls, 
but her thoughts would wander. She ’lay some time 
pondering: “Vernon Miss Sahib became ill and went 
to the mountains. Now the Doctor Miss Sahib is ill 


Famine 


75 


and must go to the mountains. Will she get well? 
Who will give medicine to the sick people while she is 
away? The Doctor Miss Sahib gave good medicine 
to my brother and made him well. She is kind. All 
the Miss Sahibs will be gone now but Ray Miss Sahib. 
Will she, too, fall ill? Then what will become of all 
the children and the famine people? Oh, that pagal 
woman! If the rains would only come soon. How 
is my father? Is he alive? Where are my mother 
and baby brother ? Ray Miss Sahib said I was to think 
of the happy days. Oh, will the happy days ever come 
again ? 

A wail from a two-year-old child, who had come 
that day, disturbed her meditations. '' Ma! Ma!” the 
little one wailed, and Sita, too, began to cry; and pres- 
ently both children sobbed themselves to sleep. 

Those last dread days of the famine, none who 
lived through them can ever forget — the scorching heat 
of the day, the unrest of the night, the continued and 
increasing horrors of famine, the wan faces upon 
which was written intense anxiety and too often de- 
spair. The people counted the hours at the last. The 
tenth day came and brought no rain. Then faint hope 
grew fainter while anxiety and fear increased. 

Miss Ray returned from her hard journey thinner 
and whiter than before. But if, in the privacy of her 
room, she sometimes trembled with weakness and fal- 
tered under the weight of her burden of care, none 
knew. If, heartbroken with the woes of her beloved 
adopted country, she sometimes cried out almost de- 
spairingly, “ O Lord, how long, how long ? ” none 


76 A King’s Daughter 

knew. They knew nothing of her time of wrestling — 
only one of the night nurses found her once still kneel- 
ing by her bed at midnight. But all fed upon the 
brightness of her face, the distressed ones to whom she 
ministered. For everywhere, among the children, the 
patients, and the famine sufferers, she carried a face 
shining with faith and courage. ‘‘ God will surely send 
the rain,"' she reiterated a hundred times a day, with 
such assurance that many took comfort and gave back 
her cheery smile. 

Of all the government wards none gave such sym- 
pathetic response to Miss Ray’s efforts as did Sita. 
The child was very busy at this time, for besides giving 
extra time to her lessons, and to the amusement of her 
brother, she nightly entertained the girls with stories. 


VIII 


THE MONSOON 

T he rain came down in torrents in Arampur. 
The stately palms, choking with the accumu- 
lated three years* dust, eagerly held out to 
the rain their great fronds. The pipal and the mango 
trees turned their leaves now this way and now that, 
thankful for the generous draught for which they had 
so long thirsted. For three days the rain fell and the 
famished land drank up the water. Then there was an 
interval of two days and the earth steamed. It rained 
again and again, and all living things rejoiced. The 
dead grass revived, delighting the eye with its green. 
The vines on the bungalows and on the orphanage 
buildings day by day grew fresher, and the crotons 
and the coleus on the verandas more brilliant in 
colour. 

The look of patient, hopeless suffering upon the 
faces of man and beast changed to gladness. 

The advent of the rainy season did not end the 
famine, but gave promise of a future harvest; and with 
its coming hope entered into the hearts of the people. 
The grain merchants, too often grasping traffickers in 
human lives, no longer held their life-sustaining com- 
modities at famine prices; and the people knew that 
77 


78 A King’s Daughter 

in a few weeks small garden stuff would be available, 
and would, with the addition of a little grain, support 
life until the rice harvest in October. 

At the first rainfall in all parts of the famine region, 
the ryots left the relief works, and carrying with them 
seed, a little food and less money, supplied from fam- 
ine funds, hurried to their desolated homes. Some 
of these whose children had been fed by relief money 
took them with them, while others begged to leave their 
little ones until they should have raised something to 
eat. * 

About fifty of those under Miss Ray's charge had 
been taken away by the second day of the rains, yet 
nearly three hundred remained. On that day the 
Deputy Commissioner made his monthly visit, and 
when he had called the roll and dismissed the children, 
he tarried for a few minutes on the veranda, talking 
with the missionary. 

When he had gone some of the girls went outside, 
Sita among them. She saw that Miss Ray continued 
to stand where the Great Sahib had left her, her 
eyes upon the ground, her forehead contracted in 
perplexity. 

“Is there trouble, Miss Sahib-ji?" inquired Sita, 
going up to her when she raised her eyes. 

“Trouble? No. Have not the rains come?" 
Gladness spoke in the teacher's voice. 

“ Ji ! " replied the child, smiling. “ My father will 
come." 

“ And our people will come. Ji ! " cried the other 
girls, laughing as they darted out for an instant into 


The Monsoon 


79 

the slackening rain and then back to the shelter of 
the veranda. 

'' You looked worried, Miss Sahib-ji,’’ persisted the 
Rajputni. 

Did I ? That was wrong. The Great Sahib tells 
me that he has no money for doors for these houses 
nor for rugs for you to sleep on. But there is no 
reason to worry. The money will come.’’ 

‘'From our friends in America?” 

“ I do not know. But we need it and I have asked 
, so it will surely come.” 

While they were talking some one announced the 
postman. 

“ Is he coming here ? That means money,” com- 
mented Miss Ray. “If he had letters only he would 
leave them at the bungalow.” 

The girls watched intently, as the uniformed post- 
man, with his umbrella in one hand, approached the 
veranda, picking his way among the shallow puddles 
of water. And, as with no word but a salaam, 
he opened his money bag, they counted with him 
as at Miss Ray’s feet he laid pile after pile of 
rupees. 

“ Two hundred rupees! ” cried Sita as he closed the 
bag and handed the relief worker two letters. “ Who 
sent the money ? ” 

“ God!” 

“ God?” 

“ Yes,” answered Miss Ray. And after a glance at 
one of the letters, she added, “ God put it into the 
heart of a woman who is a stranger to me to send 


8o 


A King’s Daughter 

this money. It is for you children, and you shall have 
your rugs to-night.’’ 

The word spread in a moment among the hut full 
of girls and very soon to the others. Then as the sun 
shone out through a rift in the fast-flying clouds, the 
delighted girls swarmed out of the huts, and chatter- 
ing of doors and rain and rugs and rupees, ran toward 
the teacher, salaaming hilariously. 

They were still salaaming when shouts and laughter 
announced the coming of reinforcements, as from 
around the corner of a hut came a troop of merry 
children, accompanied by a barking half -grown dog 
and two capering baby goats. 

‘‘ Look ! ” they shouted in chorus. Look ! Miss 

Sahib-ji!” 

“ See what we’ve got ! ” cried Mohan Lai. 

They are fish, real live fish,” screamed Amni, while 
she and the others held out their hands filled with 
tiny wriggling fish. 

“ Where did you get them ? ” questioned Miss Ray 
as they drew nearer. 

Right here on the compound.” 

“ It rained them,” cried one, and the crowd echoed 
the words. 

“ They live in the clouds,” volunteered some one. 

“ I have heard that tale before,” laughed Miss Ray, 
but it does not come into my mind.” 

‘‘ This is indeed a true word, Miss Sahib-ji,” Amni 
explained, and three or four echoed her words. “ A 
true word. Miss Sahib-ji.” 

I have seen such fish in my village,” Sita said 


The Monsoon 8i 

confidently, “ and my father said it rained them, so 
they must live in the clouds.” 

“ Did he say they lived in the clouds? How could 
they live there ? Would they not fall ? ” 

Then how ” Sita began doubtfully. 

I have read that they are carried up by the wind 
sometimes from the rivers and creeks. What are you 
going to do with the fish ? ” 

“ Eat them,” cried several. 

“ What, eat them? But you do not eat meat? ” 

Wah ! No, we do not eat flesh, but we eat fish,” 
answered some. 

I see! Fish have no life, so it is not wrong to 
kill them,” Miss Ray said, laughing. Then seeing 
their perplexed faces, she added : Now, girls, you 
would better get into the house, as it is beginning to 
rain again.” 

It is warm. Miss Sahib- ji, and we always play in 
the rain at home,” protested Sita. 

“ It is warm, but wet clothing sometimes brings 
fever.” 

It is true talk,” answered the little girl, looking 
at her brother’s bright but delicate face. We will 
go in.” 

You are to have the rugs to-night,” repeated the 
missionary as she turned to go. 

'' Salaam, Miss Sahib-ji — ^many, many salaams. Miss 
Sahib-ji,” the three hundred children cried gleefully, 
and as the rain began again to pour down, laughing 
joyously, they left the goats and the dog to their de- 
light in the rain and scampered into the huts. 


IX 


MOHAN LAL WEARIES OF WAITING 

ISTER, I wish father would come.” 

Such were Mohan Lai’s words of greeting 
to Sita when she returned one afternoon from 

school. 

So do I,” replied the round-faced little girl, losing 
her smile as she looked at her brother, who sat list- 
lessly on the dry end of the veranda of one of the 
mud houses. 

But the smile returned when, putting her books 
away, she sat down by the little lad. She cuddled 
and caressed him, calling him lotus-eyed,” and other 
home pet names, until he smiled in content. 

But he soon began again. 

It is so very many days, sister.” 

Something in the pensive tone startled Sita. 

Not so very many. You are tired of waiting? He 
must surely come soon, sweet brother.” 

‘‘ Who knows ? Yes, I am so tired and thirst strikes 
me.” 

“ I will get you some water.” 

As she tended the little lad she touched his hand 
and found it burning hot. Although he had had fever 
before she was a little frightened, and suggesting that 

82 


Mohan Lai Wearies of Waiting 83 

he sleep, went inside the house, returning with the 
child’s blue cotton rug and her own. These Sita 
folded and placed on the end of the veranda which 
the grass screens sheltered from the softly falling rain, 
and when her brother had lain down, began to press 
with both hands his chest, back, legs, and arms until 
he fell asleep. 

Afterward Sita went to the ayah who had charge 
of the little tots and asked her to watch her brother 
while she went to the hospital. She was soon back 
with the medicine, but with the look of anxiety still 
in her face. 

“ Does Phul Kuarbai know to give medicine in a 
good way?” she inquired of the ayah. 

Yes, she knows. She cured my mother of fever. 
But, of course, she is not learned like the Doctor Miss 
Sahib.” 

The hospital assistant, when she visited Mohan Lai, 
found his fever high, but she assured his sister that 
it would leave him in the night. Yet when the next 
morning she saw him at the schoolhouse, where 
the government wards were now sleeping, she found 
his temperature several degrees above normal. He 
was moved to the hospital, Sita going with him. 

He grew worse. He was very patient, but at times 
begged pitifully for his father and his mother. 
When he had been ill for a week, he said one day: 
“ Sister, you see father did not come.” 

Not yet, little brother, but he will come very 
soon,” she answered, smiling confidently at the sick 
child. 


84 A King’s Daughter 

'' He didn’t come,” he repeated, and turning over, 
fell asleep. 

The next day, when Miss Ray visited the little pa- 
tient, she found him unconscious and Sita sitting by 
him wide-eyed but composed. 

Upon leaving the room. Miss Ray sought the hos- 
pital assistant and inquired her opinion. 

“ My hope for him is this much,” she replied, hold- 
ing the tips of her thumb and forefinger nearly to- 
gether. 

I, too, have little hope. Have you told his 
sister? ” 

No, Miss Sahib-ji; it is very hard.” 

It is hard,” the missionary said with tightly 
closed lips. “ But it must be done. If you will sit by 
the boy a little while I will tell her.” 

“ Daughter,” Miss Ray questioned, after speaking 
to the little girl about other matters, ‘‘ you — do you 
know that your brother is very ill?” 

“ I know. Miss Sahib-ji.” 

“ He is very, very ill,” the teacher said again, her 
eyes filling with tears. 

I know,” the child answered. Then after a mo- 
ment she continued : “ He waked once to-day and he 
said father was coming for him.” 

“ For him?” 

“ Ji, for him, not for us. My father is dead and my 
brother will die to-night.” The child spoke with a 
far-away look and an assurance that carried con- 
viction. 

My poor little girl ! ” Miss Ray’s tears fell, but 


Mohan Lai Wearies of Waiting 85 

Sita stood dry-eyed with a pinched, hopeless ex- 
pression. 

At dawn the next morning the occupants of the mis- 
sion premises were awakened by a sound all too fa- 
miliar, the death wail of the mourner. Miss Ray, tak- 
ing Mohani with her, hastened to the hospital to find 
that all was over ; the suffering child was at rest. His 
sister was sobbing and crying and striking her head 
against the ground, giving free vent to her long re- 
pressed grief. 

When she saw Miss Ray^s sympathetic face, she 
turned from her with so violent an outburst that the 
missionary, signing to Mohani to remain on the ve- 
randa, hurried away. 

What can she do ? ” moaned Sita, when her grief 
had become less stormy. “ Can she put breath in his 
body? Oh, if the Doctor Miss Sahib had not gone 
away! It is Kismat [Fate]. My brother, my dear, 
beautiful brother!’’ She grew quieter, and Mohani 
was about to go to her when she saw that she was rock- 
ing herself as she sat on the ground, chanting words 
to this effect. How should she know how terrible it 
is? To think that he had to die without taking the 
sacred thread. How can a foreigner know about caste 
ways ? How can my brother have funeral rites ? He 
must be buried by low-caste men — and — for that he 
will be reborn low-caste many times — a thousand 
times. Oh, my poor, poor brother! What can I 
do? Oh, my mother! Oh, my father! Your son 
is dead! My brother is dead and I am alone — all 
alone.” 


86 


A King’s Daughter 

After a time her comrade on the veranda heard 
her praying in trembling, broken voice : “ Ram, Ram, 

Ram, Ram ” stopping at intervals to wail in tones 

of anguish, My brother, my poor brother ! What can 
I do? Mother, father, your son is dead and I 

am alone — all alone Ram, Ram, Ram, Ram, 

Ram ” 

“ Miss Sahib-ji, I cannot have my brother buried 
— like — like a pariah” Sita’s manner, as she stood 
in Miss Ray’s office, was controlled; but her tear- 
stained face, her trembling voice, her swollen and un- 
lighted eyes, told of the passionate grief of the 
morning. 

“ What can I do ? Daughter, there is no one here 
of your caste but Mohani ” — Miss Ray, as she spoke, 
looked toward the door, where the tall, soft-eyed girl 
stood waiting — “ and Mohani now belongs to the 
Christian caste.” 

Without our caste people he cannot have correct 
funeral rites.” 

“ What then can we do, daughter? ” 

Cannot he be buried — in your way — with songs 
and talk? Mohani has been telling me.” 

Do you think your parents would wish it ? ” 

‘‘ Ji ; they would like it better than — the other way 
— if they were alive.” Both voice and face indicated 
utter hopelessness. 

‘‘ They may be alive, dear child ; they may still come. 
But I shall be glad to do as you wish if the Great 
Sahib will consent. He is to be here to-day; and I 


Mohan Lai Wearies of Waiting 87 

think, daughter, it would be better for you to make 
the request.’' 

Very good.” 

Mohani watched with Sita, and as soon as the 
Deputy Commissioner arrived, went to him, and the 
bereaved child told her story. 

“ Your parents may still come,” he said. But — 

yes — if you wish it.” 

“ Many salaams, Sahib-ji.” 

As the little girl turned away, she saw that Miss 
Ray had come up, and heard her say : “ This means 
religious teaching, Mr. Gracie. Do you wish me to 
keep up your rule still?” Sita was going on with 
Mohani, when the word famine reached her ears and 
she stopped mechanically. The famine,” the Deputy 
Commissioner was saying, is practically over; a little 
more rain will ripen the rice, and I fancy that few 
of those who now remain will be claimed. For this 
reason and because you are to keep the girls who are 
left homeless, I will remove all restrictions except as 
regards food.” 

Sita waited no longer, but followed Mohani, saying : 
'' I see now why he said that my brother might be 
buried in your way; he thinks my people are dead.” 

“ Why, sister,” replied her comrade, you are still 
to keep caste; you are to eat the food cooked by the 
Brahman servant. The Great Sahib said so, so of 
course he looks for some of the girls to be called for. 
Your father may yet come.” 

But the broken-hearted child answered with a hard, 
dry sob: — 


88 A King’s Daughter 

'' My father will never come.” 

At three o'clock the orphanage children, dressed in 
white, stood in regular lines in the school chapel. 
Sita, also wearing a white sari, loaned her for the oc- 
casion, stood with Mohani near the bier. This was 
simply a rude cot, turned upside down, but trans- 
formed into a thing of beauty. It was draped so as 
to be completely hidden, with folds of sheer snowy 
mull, and in the folds were placed a number of fern 
leaves. 

The dead child, also in white, lay on his side as 
though asleep. In his hand was a cluster of jessamines, 
and another, nestling in green leaves, lay on his feet. 

Sita looked with awed face, then listened intently 
while the girls sang, Jesus the Messiah Has Saved 
My Life,” and a translation of “ Jesus Loves Me.” 
After they were seated. Miss Ray read the raising of 
Lazarus; then spoke of the loving Father who had 
not destroyed His child in anger, but had called him 
Home where he would live always; where he would 
never again be sick, nor thirsty, nor hungry. Then 
she told the story of Jesus blessing little children and 
of His calling Himself a Shepherd who cares for men 
and women as His sheep, and for little children as His 
lambs. 

As she talked, the sorrow and despair in the little 
mourner's face yielded to wondering surprise, which 
in turn gave way to hope. Then at the last, when the 
girls began to sing, Safe in the Arms of Jesus,” her 
face became illumined. At the close of the song, Sita, 


Mohan Lai Wearies of Waiting 89 

Mohani, and two Brahman girls stood by the four 
corners of the bier, which others, lifting, placed upon 
their heads. Then they started to the cemetery, fol- 
lowed by Miss Ray and the larger girls, who sang 
again, softly, as they walked, “ Safe in the Arms of 
Jesus.’' 


X 


WHITE PANSIES 


FEW days later, Sita was sitting alone in the 



mud hut where for so many days she had 


^ played with her brother, when hearing a step 
she looked up to see Mohani coming toward her. 

“ Sister,’’ she said eagerly, ‘‘ Ray Mama-ji calls you. 
It is for a gardening class, and you will like it. We 
sow flower seeds to-day.” 

Slowly and reluctantly the sorrowing child answered 
the summons. The joy that had come to her upon 
hearing of the Christian’s heaven had proved transient. 
It was so new and strange, while with transmigration 
and its terrors she had been always familiar, and her 
father who knew all things had never told her of the 
beautiful home above. And so in bitter loneliness she 
grieved and brooded over her brother’s unknown fate. 
Yet as out in the sunshine her comrade talked of the 
break in the rains and of seed sowing, she felt the 
brightness of the day, and when she approached the 
orphanage veranda she felt the gladness in the faces 
of the girls who were gathered about Miss Ray, whose 
genial smile — so it seemed to the child — enveloped 
them all. Nevertheless, Sita felt that there was some- 
thing in the smile for her alone. 


90 


White Pansies 


91 


She looked on without interest until the children 
began preparing the flat earthen seed pans, when she 
asked of Mohani : — 

Why do you put in potsherds, sister ? ” 

Because it is mama-ji’s hukam [direction].” 

But I don’t understand why. Miss Sahib- ji, what 
is it all for ? the hole in the pot and the bits of potsherd 
and the cocoanut hair?” 

She listened attentively to Miss Ray’s explanation, 
then did as the others were doing, afterwards going 
with Mohani to the garden for soil. When she re- 
turned the teacher was distributing seeds. To one she 
gave the large glossy castor beans, to another, sweet 
peas, then she opened a package of petunia seeds. 

“ How can these littlest of all grow ? ” inquired Sita. 

“ That I do not know; nor yet how the larger ones 
grow. But these tiny seeds do grow and make great 
branching plants, too. But the baby petunias have no 
strength at all and must be looked after like real babies. 
Come, leader, please, these must be your special 
charge.” 

Ji,” replied a merry voice, and Sita, having fol- 
lowed the teacher’s glance, discovered its owner, Priya, 
who at once left the group, squatting not far from 
the veranda about red seed pans, and hastened with 
a halting gait to answer the call. Sita recognized in 
this young woman, who was close upon sixteen years 
of age, Priya, a classmate who had helped her with 
her lessons when she first entered school, and watch- 
ing her approach remembered that her lameness was 
due to broken bones in her ankle, which, because there 


92 


A King’s Daughter 

was no surgeon in her town, had never been set. The 
child looked admiringly at the big girl, whose sari had 
slipped partly off her head, exhibiting beautiful wav- 
ing hair such as is rarely seen in India. Priya by a 
quick motion of her hand laughingly adjusted the 
sari; then seeing Sita, she sobered instantly and gave 
her a kindly greeting. 

While Miss Ray was giving directions, Mohani said 
to Sita: — 

“ Priya came back last night from the mountains 
with the Doctor Miss Sahib.’’ 

'‘If the Doctor Miss Sahib had been here, my 

brother ” The little girl’s voice trembled and her 

chin quivered, but she set her lips and soon had her- 
self under control. 

"What is that kind. Miss Sahib-ji?” she asked 
presently, when the teacher continued to give out 
seeds. " Is it not balsam ? ” 

On receiving an affirmative reply, she said : " We 
always have them — had them at our house.” 

The child’s voice again faltered, but because of the 
look which Miss Ray gave her while she poured 
some of the seeds into her hand, her burden of 
sorrow seemed lighter as she went to Priya for 
directions. 

" In a minute, sister,” answered the leader of the 
garden class. " I’m ’most through with this pan. Bal- 
sam? You should see them growing wild on the Hi- 
malayan mountains! Wah! The mountains around 
Mansuri are covered with them. The wild ones are 
not so fine and double, but they are pretty, and Doctor 


White Pansies 


93 

Miss Sahib liked them, so we gathered loads of balsam 
and dahlias for her before she was able to go out.” 

‘‘ Are they quite well? the Miss Sahibs? ” 

** Vernon Miss Sahib is not yet strong. The Doctor 
Miss Sahib is well, only ” She stopped short, look- 

ing toward the bungalow, then cried : “ Wah ! there she 
comes now! May we go to meet her, mama-ji? ” 

Surely; but hold on to your seeds,” answered Miss 
Ray, and she followed the scampering children with 
Sita at a more leisurely pace. 

The Doctor Miss Sahib is well and has come 

back,” thought the little girl. But — too late 

Miss Ray placed a kindly hand upon her shoulder and 
her chin began to quiver. She could not join in the 
joyous greetings, but when the doctor spoke to her 
the child saw a quick change in her dark eyes which 
told her that she knew and grieved with her. After 
a few minutes’ chat the girls went back to their work, 
while the missionaries talked about laying out the 
garden. Sita was aroused from her reverie by the 
teacher’s voice : — 

Please bring me a pan, somebody ; I have not yet 
sowed my seeds, and these are beauties.” Taking 
from a corked bottle a small waxed package, she 
opened it, disclosing a small home-made seed package 
from which she poured into her hand a very few 
seeds. 

“ Why, they look like \ ” Mohani exclaimed as 

she came up to look. Then as the teacher smiled, she 
said : Oh, I know what you mean — ^you mean the 
flowers are beauties.” 


94 A King’s Daughter 

Yes, daughter, I mean the flowers. The pansy is, 
I think, the best-loved flower in the world — in the 
Western world, I mean.” 

We love the jessamine best,” said Sita. 

“ And the marigold,” Amni cried, and several re- 
peated the word. 

“ I love roses best,” said Priya. 

I, too,” several voices indorsed. 

“ All are beautiful,” Miss Ray replied, but pansies 
are different from all other flowers, for they have 
faces — beautiful, sympathetic faces — and they seem to 
talk to one.” 

I never saw a pan-zee,” Sita said. 

Have you not seen the picture in my room ? Then 
come now.” The teacher led the way to her room, 
where hung a small picture of pansies done in water 
colours. 

Several remarked about it, but Sita only looked. 

Why,” she asked presently, “ why, mama-ji, do 
they not have pan-zees here?” 

“ Because of the heat, daughter. They cannot en- 
dure heat.” 

Pansies do last only a little while here,” sighed 
Doctor Doran. 

“ Only a few weeks, but I enjoy them so while they 
live, and afterward I remember them and so enjoy 
them all the year.” 

The girls of the class had now all come in and most 
of them had seated themselves around the missionaries’ 
chairs, but Sita remained standing, gazing upon the 
picture. 


White Pansies 


95 


“ Doesn’t it hurt,” she asked, “ to remember them — 
to remember and to know that they are dead ? dead and 
gone away so that you can never see them again?” 
She spoke with the far-away look in her eyes, with 
pain in her voice and a quiver of the chin, which told 
that she had forgotten the flowers and was thinking 
of her brother; and a hush fell on the little group of 
orphan children. 

“ I do not think of my pansies that way,” Miss Ray 
said gently. “ I remember their dear faces and am 
thankful to God for giving them to me for a time. I 
had a white pansy last year, like the one in the picture 
— do you remember, girls ? It was purest white, with 
a little yellow in the centre. It made me think of 
little Ruth Ashley, with her white face and yellow 
hair. Her face has some pink in it now, since she 
came from the hills, praise God ! ” 

She came near going like the pan-zee, did she not, 
mama-ji?” Priya inquired. 

Very near, daughter. Only not like the pansy, for 
she is different, you know. We will never see that 
pansy again, but we may see our dear ones who go 
from us.” 

Ji,” two or three girls said softly. 

“ But they will be changed.” 

Changed, and yet the same. I called my pansy 
seed beautiful. I have thought it so precious that I 
have kept it in a glass jar carefully sealed. Shall I 
still keep the precious seed? ” 

No, mama-ji, plant it,” Parbatti replied. 

‘\Why?” 


96 A King’s Daughter 

So it will grow into a white pan-zee/^ 

‘‘But the seed? What will become of the seed?’^ 
“ It will die, but there will be a plant and a white 
pan-zee,^’ some one said. 

“ Will it die ? ” Doctor Doran asked Miss Ray. 

“ No, indeed. The seed will seem to die, but not 
really; it will change to a plant that will blossom. 
Which is more beautiful, the seed or the flower? '' 

“ The flower, mama-ji. The pan-zee,” several cried. 
“ And how about people, our loved ones ? ” 

“ They change, too, like the pan-zee seed,” Priya 
answered. 

“ Have you ever heard anything like that ? the 
change to a glorified body ? ” 

“ The grain of wheat,” suggested Doctor Doran. 

“ The grain of wheat.” 

Sita stood listening with intent face while Miss Ray 
explained; then after another look at the picture, 
said : — 

“ My brother — will he be like the pan-zee ? ” 

“ As much as your brother was more beautiful than 
the seed, so much more beautiful will he be than the 
pansy. He is now more beautiful than anything you 
ever saw or can imagine.” 

“ And joyous like the pan-zee? ” 

The teacher’s face lighted up, as she replied: — 
“Far more joyous than the pansy — always joy- 
ous.” 

A beam of light from the setting sun fell from the 
window upon the picture and upon Sita’s face, irradi- 
ating both. All were silent for a moment, then Doctor 


White Pansies 


97 

Doran’s sweet, sympathetic voice rose in the strains of 
a song of hope: — 

“There is a Reaper whose name is Death.’* 

“ They shall all bloom in fields of light. I will give 
them all back again,” repeated Sita, wondering, then 
turning towards the doctor, said : — 

Oh, please, please sing it again, doctor- ji.” 

While Doctor Doran sang again, the sunbeams 
faded, leaving the picture in shadow, but the face of 
the child held fast its radiance. 


XI 


KISMAT 

T his time Sita did not relapse into her old deso- 
lation. Her old fear for a dread incarnation 
for her brother was gradually supplanted by 
the new hope. She mused much, picturing her brother 
sometimes as a cherub and again as the fairest flower 
in the heavenly garden. 

Except for the modifying effect of the deep impres- 
sion made upon her mind by the pansy story and the 
reaper song, together with her strong conviction that 
her father was dead, the news of his death must have 
come upon her with crushing force. As it was she 
grieved indeed, but as one who had hope, and soon 
she began picturing her father and brother well and 
strong, walking together the fields of light. They 
were ever joyous, and more, it seemed to her, when 
at times they turned upon her their glorified faces. 

The missionaries were very tender of the bereaved 
child, and a few weeks later she had recovered from 
the first poignancy of her first grief and was again 
taking an interest in life, when one day she was sum- 
moned to Miss Ray^s bedroom in the bungalow. 

'' May I come ? she questioned at the teacher’s 
door. 

In response to her invitation Sita raised the bamboo 

98 


Kismat 


99 


screen and entered the room, letting the screen fall 
behind her. As she noted the plain chest of drawers, 
the simple desk, and the wide cot with its snowy cover, 
the little girl smiled and the teacher observed the 
deepening dimple in her rounding cheek, said : — 

“ My room pleases you? Sit down, daughter.’' 

‘‘ It seems very good to me. How pretty ! ” she said, 
glancing at the delicate green wall and a group of 
pictures. “ Are you well again, mama-ji? ” 

Yes, I am well every other day, you know,” Miss 
Ray answered, smiling. I had just a little fever yes- 
terday. I shall go to the orphanage to-day.” 

You are very white and thin.” 

I have lost flesh, but it will not take long to get 
it back again when the fever leaves.” She was silent 
a moment, with a look of compassion on her face, 
then said with evident effort : ‘‘ Sita, please sit down ; 
I have sent for you — to tell you something.” 

Ji,” the child responded, seating herself on the 
fresh bamboo matting. 

You know the Great Sahib was here to-day? ” 

Ji. I saw him and he looked at me when I sa- 
laamed to him — such a strange look he gave me.” 

He thought you were dead.” 

Sita watched Miss Ray’s face intently. 

“ Daughter, I have heavy news to tell you.” 

“My mother, my baby brother?” she inquired, 
springing up. 

“ Little girl, you know I have been sick and could 
not see the people who came for their children.” 

“ My mother came ! ” 


lOO 


A King’s Daughter 

“ Yes, your mother came a week ago on bazaar 
day. Do you remember the other Sita died and was 
buried the day before that, on Friday?’^ 

“ My mother came and they told her that I was 
dead!” 

‘‘ Yes, child.” Miss Ray could no longer keep back 
her tears. But the girl’s eyes were wide and dry. 

“ You know,” continued the teacher, ‘‘ that you went 
to the bazaar that day? It was while you were gone 
that your mother came with the Great Sahib’s 
chaprassi. He had already told her that Mohan Lai 
had died before, but that you were here. When he 
asked Rupwati, the new helper among the government 
wards, she said she did not know the names of all 
the girls, but that one named Sita had died the day 
before. Then the chaprassi said that it was you. I 
suppose he looked no farther than the name, for the 
record shows two girls named Sita.” 

Sita stood with ashen face. 

“ I did not know this till to-day. The Great Sahib 
told me when he was here, after he saw you. He will 
send a letter to your mother at once.” 

“ She will not come again. It is Kismat [Fate].” 

How dreary was the face, how dreary the voice of 
the child! 

Why should she not come ? Rupwati will go with 
you this afternoon to the Great Sahib’s place that you 
may talk with the chaprassi' s wife; she was with your 
mother, and can tell you all that she said.” 

Good,” the girl replied in a listless, mechanical 
way as she turned toward the door. 


Kismat 


lOI 


And, daughter, you may stay here in the bunga- 
low if you like, in my room or on the veranda. It will 
be noisy in the orphanage.” 

“ Ji,” she answered, and went out on the veranda. 

It was a piteous face that she lifted when two hours 
later Miss Ray, accompanied by Mohani, went to 
her. 

Daughter, shall your friend ask the Brahman cook 
to bring your breakfast here ? ” 

Hunger does not touch me.” 

‘‘ I know, dear. Little Tara will bring you water 
to drink.” 

“ Mohani,” Sita heard the teacher say when she had 
returned to her room, “ I wish you would ask the sew- 
ing class to sing; the songs may comfort her. Songs 
are good medicine for sick hearts.” 

Ji,” the girl replied, and after her return to the 
orphanage the girls grew quieter and presently began 
to sing softly. 

The next morning Miss Ray again sent for Sita. 
Though her face showed less poignant suffering, her 
voice was spiritless, and her eyes without lustre, as she 
gave her salutation. 

'' Salaam, dear; sit down, close to me.” 

Ji.” 

I have written a letter to your mother, telling her 
all about you; so cheer up, daughter; she will surely 
come again and take you home.” 

“ She will not take me home ; I am to stay here.” 
The child spoke slowly, with her far-away look. It 
is Kismat 


102 


A King’s Daughter 

What did the chaprassi's wife tell you? What 
word did your mother bring from your people? ’’ 

“ There is no real news. My father passed away 
the night before Mohan Lai died. He said father was 
coming for him.’^ 

‘‘ I remember. Was he ill long? Did the woman 
know ? ’’ 

“ The chaprassi's wife knew nothing. But she took 
me to the house of the Rajput people where mother 
spent that night, and she told me, the Rajputni woman, 
that my father had been ill for months and that mother 
was very thin. They .suffered terribly.” 

Was there no one to help them? ” 

The child’s face grew dark as she answered. 

“If the tahsildar had done right by my people, they 
need not have suffered at all from the famine. Oh, 
how could they treat my father so ? They must mean 
to set aside the marriage.” 

Sita had for a long time made no mention of her 
marriage. 

“ And if they do, will not that be the best thing for 
you? How could you be happy with such cruel peo- 
ple?” 

“ Happy ? ” asked the child in bewilderment. “ I 
was thinking of the shame, the disgrace upon my fa- 
ther’s name and caste, and my father of the line of 
Janak ! I hate them. May Vishnu remember — I hate 
them!” 

“No more, Sita. My dear, there can be no disgrace 
to you, except as it comes from your own wrong- 
doings.” 


Kismat 


103 


The rebellious child sat silent until grief dominated 
the anger in her face. Miss Ray in the meantime 
busied herself at her desk. She then inquired if there 
had been no news of the baby brother. 

‘‘ He is still alive, Miss Sahib-ji. Oh! I so want to 
see him, I want to see my mother ! ” 

“ And why may you not ? I have written to her. 
What good news it is that your mother and brother 
are alive ! ” 

“ But my mother is so sad. She fainted that day — 
after she left here. My mother is heartbroken and so 
poor — she is alone ! 

Sita had been struggling bravely to keep her 
sorrow under control, but now her face was work- 
ing, and when the teacher placed her hand caress- 
ingly on her head, calling her “ poor little girl,” 
she gave up all effort at self-control and wept 
freely. 

‘‘ My dear, you have borne your sorrow so bravely. 
I am sure you will master this disappointment. Your 
mother will come again for you.” 

“ She will not come back ! I am cut off from my 
people! It is Kismat 

“ What is Kismat, daughter? ” 

''Kismat is — certain to come; it is written on our 
foreheads.” 

I have heard; you think the Fate God writes on 
the foreheads of all? ” 

“ Ji, when they are five days old.” After a mo- 
ment the girl inquired : You do not believe in Kis- 
mat f ” 


104 ^ King’s Daughter 

No, daughter; I believe in one God, the Great God, 
who rules the world/’ 

'' And is He Kismatf ” 

“ No ; there is no Kismat, I think, as Hindus be- 
lieve.” 

'' But — my mother — why did she not find me ? Why 
was I away that day? Why did Rupwati and the 
chaprassi tell her I was dead? I shall not forgive 
them.” 

“ I do not know. I think Tell me, daughter, 

what Karunabai is reading you in school from the 
Dharma Pustak [Holy Book].” 

She reads about Joseph.” 

Tell me about him.” 

Sita repeated the main facts of the story, giving 
much of it in detail. 

You have told me up to the time the cup was 
found.” 

“ Ji, in Benjamin’s sack.” 

‘‘ What do you think of Joseph’s brothers? ” 

They were very, very bad.” 

“ What do you think Joseph will do with them? ” 

“ He will punish them, of course, and it will be 
good to do it. Only I wish — I hope he will let Ben- 
jamin go back to his father.” 

“ Would you like to have my Dharma Pustak and 
finish reading the story ? ” 

Ji,” replied the little girl, her eyes brightening as 
she received the large book. 

Miss Ray presently observed that Sita’s eyes were 
no longer on the book and asked how far she had read. 


Kismat 


105 


“ Joseph’s father has come,” she answered with tears 
in her eyes. “ It was good that he did not die before 
finding Joseph.” 

“ What did Joseph do to his brothers ? ” 

He feasted them,” replied the little girl, looking 
surprised. 

“ Yes; but you have not read all. After some years 
Jacob died and then Joseph’s brothers were afraid. 
The rest of the story is in the last chapter. Shall I 
find the place for you? ” 

“ Ji,” the child said eagerly, and she read with a 
thoughtful face. “ Miss Sahib- ji, he forgave them,” 
she said presently, “ and they ought to have been pun- 
ished.” 

Would you like Joseph better if he had punished 
them ? ” 

'' No, Miss Sahib-ji,” the little girl spoke slowly. 

It was good of him to forgive them, but it was 
hard.” 

“ Yes, it is always hard to forgive, until one grows 
large in heart like God, the Ocean of Forgiveness.” 
Miss Ray waited a little, then went on : What did 
Joseph say about punishment when his brothers asked 
him to forgive them? Read the nineteenth verse 
aloud.” 

'' ' And Joseph said unto them, “ Fear not; for am 
I in the place of God? ” ’ ” 

You see Joseph understood that it was God’s work 
to punish, and that his part — was to forgive.” 

Ji,” the girl answered thoughtfully. 

Did you find Kismat in the story ? ” 


io6 A King’s Daughter 

“ No, Miss Sahib-ji/’ 

'' Read the twentieth verse aloud. That tells what 
Joseph thought of Kismatf' 

“ ' And as for you, ye meant evil against me ; but 
God meant it for good, to bring to pass, as it is this 
day, to save much people alive.’ ” 

After Miss Ray had explained, Sita asked : “ Did 
God make Rupwati and chaprassi tell my mother that 
I was dead ? ” 

No, not that; but I think he wants you to stay 
here awhile. He has something for you to learn, to 
do for Him as He had for Joseph.” 

Shall I be great like Joseph ? ” the child asked 
wonderingly. 

“No — yes; not exactly like Joseph, but you will 
learn here many things, and who knows but some day 
you may do something great for your people ? ” 

“ I will learn.” 

“ And remember, daughter, that the Great God is 
your father, more loving and tender than your own 
earthly father could be. He makes no mistakes.” 

Sita’s tear-stained face continued to brighten as 
Miss Ray talked, and when she concluded by reciting a 
comforting promise, the child repeated it after her, 
but each time with the rising inflection : “ When my 
father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will 
take me up.” 


XII 


LETTERS 

T he next week was a week of changes. First 
came the formal transfer of the fifty-two re- 
maining government wards to the mission 
orphanage. This change Sita welcomed because of 
the better accommodations and because of her prefer- 
ence for the society of the more cultured and sweet- 
spirited orphanage girls. Her one great regret was 
the Brahman cook who served as a connecting link 
with the caste of her past life. However, when as- 
sured that she need not eat meat she was content. 

But when before she had grown accustomed to the 
new order of things, Miss Vernon returned and took 
over both school and orphanage that Miss Ray might 
go away for a rest, the little girl found it hard. How- 
ever, before going she had engaged to write to the 
girls and had invited them to answer. Sita was among 
those who accepted the invitation. Others wrote more 
but none so often as she. The following are extracts 
from her letters: — 

Arampur, Central Provinces, Nov. 2nd. 
To My Dear Mama-ji : 

From your little daughter Sita, many, many salaams 
and much love. Mama-ji, be it known to you that all 


107 


io8 A King’s Daughter 

of us are, by the favour of God, well, and we are hold- 
ing the hope that God will quickly make you well. 

Mama-ji, from your going away, sorrow struck me, 
but writing to you eases my heart’s pain, and I am 
writing before any letter comes from you. Priya helps 
me, but I cannot write fast, and there are so many, 
many things I want to say to you, so I am going to 
write some every day. 


Nov. 4th. 

Your letter to us all came to-day. I am glad you 
put my name in. Many salaams, mama-ji. Doctor 
Miss Sahib took me and Mohani to see Ashley Mem 
Sahib to-day and little Ruthie. I never saw a white 
baby before, and she is whiter than all the Sahib peo- 
ple and her eyes are so blue and her hair nearly white, 
too. Such a strange baby. She salaamed to us when 
we left and put her hand in her curls. She is like the 
white pan-zee. 

Nov. 8th. 

Mama-ji, I help Priya with the garden every day in 
the evening, when I am through carrying water to the 
cook house. I like it. The baby plants are growing, 
but not all the last seeds came up in the pans. I think 
it is because you were not here to coax them. My 
balsams are four inches high. 

Nov. 1 2th. 

Salaam, mama-ji. Another letter came from you to- 
day for us all and a very little chitti [note] for me 
alone, but when I read it I can hear you say “ Dear 
child,” and I can see your sweet face. It made a happy 


Letters 


109 


lump in my throat. I pray every day for you to get 
strong, and so do all the girls. 


Nov. 15th. 

Dear mama-ji. Vernon Miss Sahib has changed the 
classes and I do not like to grind wheat. I am in the 
grinding class now. You put me in the class of water 
carriers and I liked that. It was fun to get hold of 
the rope with eight or ten girls and run with it to pull 
up the buckets of water. I wish you were here now. 
I do not like it here without you. No letter has yet 
come from my mother. 


Nov. 22nd. 

Mama-ji, I have not been a good girl. I have given 
Matiyabai and Vernon Miss Sahib much trouble. It 
was that wheat grinding. I do not like it, so I didn’t 
do it. But when Vernon Miss Sahib asked me if I 
wanted to be a drone and told me about the bees, I did 
try. But some wheat would be left nearly every day 
until one day she called me and big Sona to the office. 
Big Sona grinds with me and she is very strong, but she 
can’t grind alone. The Miss Sahib told us that we 
could not go to school next day until all the wheat 
was ground, all for that day and all that had been 
left. I wanted so to go because I would miss both 
my arithmetic classes, and I told her that you had 
promised that as soon as I catch up I may study Eng- 
lish; but she would not listen. Then I saw tears in 
big Sona’s eyes and much pain came in my heart, for 
I knew that it was all my fault. I begged Vernon 


I lO 


A King’s Daughter 

Miss Sahib to let me grind alone, but she said that one 
could not grind alone. 

Nov. 23rd. 

I had to stop writing yesterday to help Priya. It is 
fun to irrigate. When I went away from the office 
that day big Sona stayed, and when she came out after 
awhile she was smiling. I thought she would scold 
me, but she did not. On the next morning I got up 
very early and was ready at daylight to grind. We 
did all that was left over first and then the day’s por- 
tion. I was so tired, but we were only two hours late 
at school. Vernon Miss Sahib smiled when we went 
in, and so did Sona, and I did, too, though I didn’t 
mean to. 

Nov. 26th. 

We have been another time to see little Pan-zee. 
She clapped her hands and sang ''Tali baja'' so 
sweetly. An ugly scorpion got on her and I knocked 
it off. I could not wait for a stick, because it was close 
to her neck. Mohani cried out when she saw the 
scorpion and the Mem Sahib and the Doctor Miss 
Sahib came to the door. The Mem Sahib cried and 
begged the Doctor Miss Sahib to put medicine on my 
fingers, though I told her the scorpion did not sting 
me. It was a black one and that kind might kill a 
baby. I don’t know why she cried, because Pan-zee 
was not hurt. Dear little Pan-zee. 

Nov. 29th. 

I grind my whole time now and we do all of all 
every day. We sing as we grind, the twelve of us in 


Letters 


III 


the grinding class, and we drown out the noise of the 
mills. I sit up until nine o’clock every night to study 
with the big girls. Vernon Mama-ji lets me because 
I am strong. I study arithmetic and shall be ready 
for English when you come back. 


Dec. 2 nd. 

Mama-ji, I have broken my promise to you and 

have quarrelled with Amni again. She called me 

it was all about meat. She went on at me because I 
would not eat meat and you said I need not eat it and 
Vernon Miss Sahib does not eat meat. She ridiculed 
my poor mother and called her a widow — a widow 
without a son.* I could not hear my mother so dishon- 
oured so I answered her. I said to end with : May 
your mother be a widow this year and your aunts 
and your sisters and sister-in-law, and may you be a 
widow on the day of your wedding.” Amni began to 
cry, and Matiyabai came and sent us to Vernon Miss 
Sahib. I am not sorry; she deserved it. 


Dec. 6th. 

Salaam, mama-ji. Your dear letter came to-day. I 
took it off in the banana grove and read it by myself. 
You talk of forgiveness and Miss Sahib talks of for- 
giveness, and Mohani and Karunabai. But, mama-ji, 
I cannot forgive Amni. 

* “ Widow ” is used as a term of reproach. A woman is sup- 
posed to lose her husband because of some crime she has com- 
mitted in a former state of existence. A widow who has no son 
is under the extreme displeasure of the gods. “ Widow ” is 
often used as synonymous with wanton. 


II2 


A King’s Daughter 


Dec. 8th. 

I have had such a fright. They are cleaning out our 
well and we have to go to the well across the road 
for water, and the water carriers were having a hard 
time, so some of the girls offered to help, and I went 
with Mohani a few times. Well, you know they draw 
water over there with a sweep, and Vernon Mama-ji 
gave the order that none of the little girls should 
draw the water. There were usually some of the big 
girls there to draw it and to lift the gharas upon our 
heads, but once when I was the last, except for big 
Sona, she said she would carry one ghara while wait- 
ing, for there was much water needed. She had passed 
me and taken the short cut when here came Amni 
back. When she came up to me I asked what she 
was going to do and she said that she had stumbled and 
spilled her jar of water and was going back for more. 
I could have called to big Sona, but I did not. I 
thought Amni ought to do what I said, so I reminded 
her that Vernon Mama-ji had given the order that little 
girls were not to draw water. 

She said that she was not a little girl and that she 
would draw the water in spite of my orders. Amni is 
a half inch taller than I, but she will not be long, for 
I am growing fast, and I play in the big gymnasium 
every day. 

You must not,” I cried after her, but she went 
right on. I had started on, for I was angry and almost 
ready for a quarel, when I heard a scream and a 
splash. I looked back and Amni was nowhere to be 
seen. Then my heart stood still, for my curses came 


Letters 


113 


into my mind and I was afraid. I called loudly to 
big Sona, but she did not hear. Then I threw my 
ghara to the ground and ran hard. I did not know 
what to do, only I knew I must do something. I saw 
the long plank that lies by the well and I snatched it 
up and pushed it upon the mouth of the well. But it 
was so wide and the plank so heavy I thought I should 
never get it across. 

I looked into the well while shoving the plank across 
and saw Amni’s head. She cried out, then went down. 
I caught the rope and drew down the sweep until the 
bucket touched the water. Just then I saw Amni’s 
arms, then her head again, and I called loudly to her 
and threw myself down across the board. She clutched 
the bucket before I was ready, and I thought I should 
go in, too ; but I steadied myself and held to the rope. 
Mama-ji, it seemed like the girls would never come 
back and I was so frightened that my strength was 
almost gone. Then I prayed and promised the Great 
God that if He would save Amni I would never curse 
again. My strength came back then and I called to 
Amni to hold on tight, and we both held out until the 
girls came. 

Amni was frightened, too, and she says that I saved 
her life. I didn’t, you know. I only held the rope 
by the favour of God until the girls came to save her. 
But Amni seems different to me now. 


Dec. loth. 

Mama-ji, up to now, from my mother no letter has 
come. Perhaps it is true that God wants me to stay 


1 14 A King’s Daughter 

here to learn How to do something for my people. It 
is not so hard to stay here now. Vernon Mama-ji is 
kind and so are the girls. 

I am very, very glad you are coming soon. I am 
now fastening up my letter with love. Whatever mis- 
takes and faults there may be in the letter, dear 
Mama-ji, please, doing kindness, forgive. 

To my beloved Mama-ji 

From her loving daughter, 

SiTA. 


P.S. — I have forgiven Amni. 


SiTA. 


XIII 


JOY DAY 

‘^XXTAKE up! Wake up! Great Day has 
\ Y come ! Great Day’s salaams ! Great Day’s 
salaams ! ” 

It was with these words from many voices sounding 
in her ears that Sita opened her eyes upon her first 
Christmas. The merry shouts came from the girls 
of another room, who, anticipating the call of the 
gong, had risen and were arousing their more sleepy 
comrades. Sita, amid laughter and greetings, speedily 
scrambled out of her cot and soon hurried out in the 
early dawn with Mohani to join the merry group in 
the largest dormitory. Then as the Christmas clouds 
changed from grey to red all turned their steps toward 
the orphanage chapel, and soon their glad voices rang 
out in the still morning air in the strains of that jubi- 
lant hymn, Joy to the World.” 

After the brief praise service the girls gathered 
about the missionaries, crying Great Day’s salaams.” 
Rosy-cheekcd Miss Hillis, a new teacher just arrived 
from America, delighted the children with her ig- 
norance of and her interest in their country. 

“ Is it possible,” she asked, turning to Miss Ray. 
** Is it posssible that you have no name for Christ- 
mas?” 

115 


ii6 A King’s Daughter 

None but Great Day, and Hindus and Moham- 
medans have many Great Dd,ys” 

“ Preposterous ! We must have a special name for 
our Great Day/' 

Call it Joy Day," cried Priya, her face a picture of 
joy, as she adjusted her sari over her waving hair. 

‘'Joy Day! how good," exclaimed Miss Ray and 
Miss Hillis together. “ Joy Day’s salaams I " 

“ Joy Day’s salaams," chorused the girls, and pres- 
ently they scattered over the compound to shout the 
new greeting to Matiyabai in the cook-house, to Doctor 
Doran in the dispensary, to Miss Vernon in the nurs- 
ery, and to their comrades everywhere. 

Miss Ray had decided upon an experiment for the 
day; to have the three large girls who were to sing 
Christmas trios at the other Sunday schools, sing for 
her boys as well. And two little girls were to go along 
to recite the story of “ The Angels and the Shep- 
herds." Those chosen were Mohani and Sita. 

Miss Hillis accompanied the girls to Doctor Doran’s 
schools, and then across the town to the large hut 
which housed Miss Ray’s schools. 

Upon Miss Ray’s invitation a number of the mothers 
who had attended her girls’ Sunday school stayed to 
the boys’ exercises and their presence relieved the 
visiting young women of any feeling of self-conscious- 
ness. The teacher had fixed their thoughts upon 
their songs by the suggestion that these Hindu 
and Mohammedan boys had never heard Christmas 
songs. 

The older boys, from fourteen to seventeen, took 


Joy Day 117 

their places quietly, making no sign of surprise, but 
the little fellows stared. Miss Ray at once explained 
that some of the mission girls had come to sing Christ- 
mas songs for her girls' Sunday school, and that she 
had requested them to remain and sing for the boys. 
They looked pleased, and when the three young women 
stood up in their fresh bright-bordered white saris, 
watched them intently while they sang. For the sing- 
ers looked straight before them and the boys sat on 
the floor. 

Sita when called upon to recite stood a moment 
with her head inclined slightly to one side, then ren- 
dered the passage in a clear musical voice. When 
she reached the end. Miss Ray remarked that the little 
ones did not understand and asked her to tell it to 
them. And the child, with a smile on her face which 
brought out the dimple in her left cheek, looked in 
the faces of the rows of little boys before her and 
told the story simply, using Hindu idioms. Her face 
was radiant at the last when she said : “ And we call 
our Great Day, Joy Day, as the angel said : ‘ And 
behold I bring you tidings of great Joy, which shall 
be to all people.' " 

When upon sitting down Sita observed the joy in 
Miss Ray's face, she thought it but natural. Yet 
wondered at Miss Hillis' look of surprise and the ques- 
tion she asked in an undertone. 

How old is she? " 

The boys appeared impressed with the exercises; 
there was something new in their faces. The older 
ones received their presents of English New Testa- 


ii8 A King’s Daughter 

ments with quiet, dignified salaams, but when the dis- 
tribution of sweets began, one of the tiny little fellows 
laughed and salaamed noisily and repeatedly, and the 
spell was broken. While some of the mothers remained 
after dismissal talking to Miss Ray, Sita overheard 
the remarks of some of the older boys who had 
stopped outside the wall. 

‘‘ I wish my sister could sing like that.’' 

“ I wish my sister could read like that.” 

“ So she could if your mother and father would send 
her to school.” 

“ But they won’t. I shall ask them again, though.” 

‘‘ Our sisters don’t look like those girls.” 

Our sisters wouldn’t show their faces; it is a 
shame for a woman to show her face.” 

'' Wah ! all foreigners do. It is all right for them ; 
it is their custom.” 

It is right for those girls, too. All Christians 
show their faces.” 

My father says it is right for anybody — it is only 
a wretched custom we have.” 

Custom is law with Hindus.” 

As they got into the tonga the little boys gathered 
around and while Miss Ray talked, Sita caught fur- 
ther scraps of conversation. 

I shall ask my mother and father to get me a wife 
that can read and sing.” 

I wonder what angels are like ? ” 

‘‘ Who knows ? ” 

“ I know ; they are like the little girl. Did you not 
see how her face shone ? ” 


Joy Day 119 

Hearing this a strange feeling of elation was taking 
possession of Sita when the tonga started and Miss 
Ray said quietly : — 

“ What a happy time we have had with the gifts 
and the songs and the Bible Lesson. That story of 
the Angels and the Shepherds is so wonderfully beau- 
tiful that it makes the faces of those who tell it to 
shine.” 

Ji,” answered Sita thoughtfully. 

After the return to the orphanage and the ten o’clock 
breakfast came the treat to the poor. The wretched, 
ragged crowd on the ground outside made a sad con- 
trast with the girls on the veranda, with their snowy 
saris and joyous faces. The children took part in the 
songs and in the gifts as well, for they had contributed 
the oranges which Miss Vernon had provided for 
their Christmas dinner. Besides food, to each woman 
was given an inexpensive sari and to each man a waist 
cloth, and all went away calling down blessings upon 
the children and the missionaries. 

Sita and Mohani had asked to help in distributing 
the Christmas gifts, and afterwards while the company 
dispersed they were attracted to a woman blind in the 
right eye and carrying a basket in her arms, who in 
passing by had lingered watching the white-robed girls 
as they passed from the veranda into the house. When 
she accosted them, asking what it might all mean, they 
eagerly began to explain, then led her to the veranda 
where Miss Vernon still lingered with Miss Hillis. 
Sita introduced the decently dressed, sad-faced woman 
as a Rajputni and listened intently while she talked 


120 


A King’s Daughter 

with the house-mother. When she had gone, Miss 
Hillis called the two girls, and said in a whisper : — 

“ Don’t tell. Let’s surprise the girls. In surprises 
lies half the delight of Christmas — of Joy Day, I 
mean.” 

Listening, the children smiled consent to the plan, 
and how they did enjoy that secret — the two girls 
together. Amni saw them at the Christmas dinner 
smiling at Miss Vernon and Miss Hillis and at each 
other, and asked what it was all about. 

“ Oh, it is a secret,” laughed Sita. Then seeing her 
give Mohani an angry look — Amni was now Sita’s 
devoted admirer and jealous of the camaraderie of the 
Rajput girls — she added: “ You’ll know at the Christ- 
mas tree.” 

The word spread among the girls that there was to 
be some special surprise, and all through the exercises 
there was unusual excitement, but not until they were 
over and the last gift taken from the tree did the sur- 
prise appear. Miss Vernon now brought from the 
little side room a basket and announced with smiles 
that she had another present for the girls. A faint 
wail gave away the secret, and after the benediction the 
girls crowded about to welcome the baby, to bemoan its 
thinness, and to exclaim over its tiny feet and toes. 

“ What shall we call our Christmas gift? ” inquired 
Miss Vernon. 

'' Arrandi [Joy],” replied Sita, and all echoed the 
name. 

It was now playtime, and several of the mission- 
aries went to the grounds to play with the boys and 


I2I 


Joy Day 

girls. But some, a few, of the latter left the grounds, 
and going to Miss Vernon begged to be allowed to 
sew for Joy, and before dark two simple dresses, two 
petticoats, and a cap were ready. When the sewers 
took them to the house-mother they found her with a 
bundle just starting somewhere. When she told them 
that she was going to the mango grove to see the 
baby’s grandmother and asked if they would like to 
go, they were delighted and went away to find some 
gifts to take. 

Sita was not one of the sewers, but she came back 
with Mohani, eager to go, and exhibited as her present 
a tiny bazaar mirror. Miss Hillis smiled at the incon- 
gruity, and was astonished afterward when the half- 
blind old woman made more of the mirror than of 
any other gift. 

She was pleased with everything and listened amazed 
while the girls told of the welcome given to the 
baby and of what they had done and meant to do for 
her. When Mohani showed her the soft flannel cap, 
she touched it wonderingly, and upon hearing that they 
had named the child Joy, looked dazed. 

“Joy?” she repeated. “Joy? She has brought 
nothing but trouble to me and to all her people.” She 
stood a moment, her eyes upon the stream, then 
added : “ I intended that worthless to sleep in the river 
to-night. Perhaps — ^perhaps it is true, what you say, 
and there is a God who cares even for girl babies.” 

When they exclaimed in horror at her confession 
she was silent, then asked to speak to Sita alone. The 
little girl went with her to the other side of the tree. 


122 


A King’s Daughter 

While the others waited they watched wonderingly, 
in the dim moonlight, the figure of the woman and 
the child as their voices rose and fell. Presently they 
heard : — 

You are a daughter of Janak and you live in Raj 

Gaon? Well, this child is of the house of 

Her voice sank to a whisper. 

“What?” ejaculated Sita. 

“ Wah ! You know them I I should not have told 
you. If ever you tell they will kill me for sparing the 
child.” 

“ I will keep your secret, mother * ; have no fear. 
You have spared the baby’s life, and the gods — the 
Great God will bless your home.” 

As a good-bye to the stranger the little group sang 
again the Christmas songs. 

It was prayer time when they got back to the or- 
phanage, and many of the girls, Sita among them, 
raised their voices in gratitude for all the wonderful 
happiness of Joy Day, in prayer for the poor grand- 
mother, and in thanksgiving for the little Joy whom 
He had saved from the river for their Joy Day gift. 


* The term mother is in common use as a term of respect. 


BOOK II 


STORM AND STRESS 



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SITA^S MOTHER 

T WO years after the first coming of Sita’s 
mother, she again appeared at the orphanage 
in Arampur, accompanied this time by her 
son. During the long unbroken silence the little girl 
had held fast in her heart the hope that her mother 
would one day return, and upon her coming had re- 
ceived her with demonstrative joy. For Sita, eased 
of the burden of maintaining her caste dignity, and 
of the far more grievous burden of her early mar- 
riage, had, while she grew taller, grown more child- 
like in thought and manner. 

Yet with her glad greetings were mingled sorrow- 
ful tears. For as they were clasped in each other’s 
arms, her mother’s coarse white widow’s sari slipped 
back and exposed for an instant her piteous shaved 
head. This brought to Sita the full realization of 
her mother’s sad estate and with it the reminder 
that the reunion was the reunion of a broken 
family. 

But six-year-old Janak Ram was all joy and his 
exuberant spirits soon put sadness to rout. Sita, with 
the tears still in her eyes, smiled at his gleeful shouts 
as he entreated his mother’s attention to the bevy 
of girls drawing water at the well close by. Then, 
125 


126 


Storm and Stress 


bringing a rug and cushion, she made her mother 
comfortable on the corner of the veranda which was 
shaded by the purple bougainvillea, and seating herself 
by her side drank in — the while attempting to cuddle 
her merry brother — the story of the years of separa- 
tion. 

It was not long, however, until little Joy, with never 
a doubt of her welcome, toddled up and found har- 
bour in Tulsiabai’s motherly arms. Then Shanti fol- 
lowed, searching for Joy, and she too joined the little 
group. Soon Sita saw Mohani and Amni near at 
hand and ran to tell them of her mother’s coming, 
and to bring them to her corner. Thereafter, Sita, 
as they approached called to others to come to meet 
her mother. Janak Ram now went with Shanti to 
play and at once the wonderful news spread over 
the compound, and, it being playtime, the entire 
orphanage gathered to rejoice with their comrade and 
to do honour to her mother. 

Tulsiabai was a refined gentlewoman and gave no 
sign of her astonishment at her daughter’s associates 
of many castes, but greeted all graciously, her mother- 
heart discerning that the tears in the eyes of some 
of the children were for mothers who had never come 
to claim them. 

Miss Ray’s invitation, — Miss Vernon was at this 
time home on furlough, — ^to remain a day or two 
before making the return trip, Tulsiabai, who was 
weary with her eighty miles’ drive in an ox-cart, gladly 
accepted. On Monday they were to have started but 
Sunday afternoon the little girl’s eyes began troubling 


Sita’s Mother 


127 


her, and Monday morning Mohani made the report to 
Doctor Doran at the orphanage dispensary, “To Sita 
the eyes have come/’ 

Tulsiabai had been given a one- room house in the 
orphanage compound, and to this instead of to the 
eye ward in the mission hospital, the patient was 
taken. Sita had never been ill, — except with the 
measles, which she had very lightly, — and so she had 
had little acquaintance with pain, and bore it badly 
enough. She not only made a great ado when the 
medicine was put in her eyes, but would not tolerate 
the hot fomentations until Doctor Doran repeated the 
order in person with the warning that unless the treat- 
ment was strictly followed her sight would be imper- 
illed. This had the desired effect and the patient 
submitted, though with little grace; and as the inflam- 
mation increased she moaned continuously, declaring 
that she could not endure the suffering. This so in- 
creased the mother’s anxiety, that when Priya and 
Mohani, the night nurses, had gone to the cook-house 
for hot water, she said: — 

“ My daughter, I have a little money, let me — let 
me make an offering for you to Ram.” 

The moans of the patient ceased abruptly. 

“ Oh, mother,” she cried, “ that cannot be. I am 
a Christian.” 

“ I know, but I,” — her voice began to tremble as 
she urged — “ your eyes are very bad, if — if ” 

“ But I shall not go blind, mother dear,” said Sita, 
catching the thought that her mother, through fear 
that its expression should bring about the calamity 


128 


Storm and Stress 


she dreaded, dared not put into words. I am mind- 
ing the doctor now.'’ 

“ Daughter dear, I have known many, many people 
to go blind with the ‘ eyes.’ ” 

Ji, I know. But the Doctor Miss Sahib says that 
it is not the bad kind and that she thinks I shall get 
well, if I do all she says, and I will.” 

“ She thinks, but I have seen. My dear, dear 
daughter, I beg that you will let me go. It can do 
no harm and Ram may be angry. I myself will make 
the offering.” 

‘‘ Mother, dear mother, I cannot, I cannot let you 
make an offering for me, — ^before — an — image. But 
the Great God will help me. I forgot to ask Him.” 

Sita placed her hands over her paining eyes and 
prayed aloud very simply and very earnestly. There- 
after she lay so quiet that her nurses, coming in, 
thought she was asleep. 

** Ease is, daughter ? ” questioned her mother when 
she stirred as the girls came back. 

“ Some ease is, dear mother, but I am ready for 
the hot cloths. Priya, I can bear them hotter now.” 

When an hour later a moan escaped her, she said 
she still had pain but that it was easier to bear. 

Her mother’s suggestion had given Sita a shock. 
It was only a few months before that she had publicly 
professed the new faith, but from the time of her 
brother’s death it had been her comfort, and living 
in its atmosphere, her faith had grown with the 
years. 

She had told her mother the story of the Christ, 


Sita’s Mother 


129 


and had taken her to the girls’ meeting and to the 
Sunday services. Tulsiabai had listened with interest 
and had consented that her daughter might remain 
a Christian after returning home. Yet just now she 
had asked to make an offering to an image ! Sita con- 
tinued to pray for healing and for patience, and that 
her mother might see and believe. She recalled, after 
a time, that her mother had said that she could be 
taken back into caste since she was still a child, and 
her heart was troubled, for returning to the former 
caste would mean giving up her religion. All this she 
thought out as she lay sleepless and suffering. The 
Doctor, on the morning following, pronounced her 
convalescent, and Tulsiabai rejoiced. It was neces- 
sary for the patient to remain for several days in a 
darkened room, and during these days she found op- 
portunity to recite to her mother many passages of 
Scripture and to tell her many Bible stories. 

Miss Ray, during Sita’s illness, visited her and her 
mother often, as did Miss Hillis, and Mrs. Ashley 
came once with Pansy. Because of the danger of in- 
fection, neither Pansy nor any other child was allowed 
in the darkened room, but the little girl came to the 
door with smiles and flowers, then played with Janak 
Ram outside. 

Tulsiabai’s heart was touched by the attention 
shown to her daughter, and when one evening Miss 
Ray enquired about the home to which she was going, 
answered freely. And Sita, listening, found that her 
pictures of the old home-life were impossible of 
realization. As her mother talked a feeling of home- 


130 


Storm and Stress 


sickness came over her, — homesickness for a home 
that had ceased to exist. 

It was now nearly sunset and as her eyes could 
bear the waning light they went outside. Seeing Sita 
on the porch some of the girls ran to her. But once 
in an interval of their chatter she heard her mother 
say: “No, there is no school for girls’’; and again, 
“ Her father said so, he said she would be a scholar.” 

Sita remembered. But soon she became fully occu- 
pied with the chatter of her mates; so much so that 
she failed to notice that when Miss Ray went away 
her mother accompanied her. 

It was quite dark when she returned and as Sita 
could not bear a light in the room they went at once 
to bed. When they had talked a little silence fell, 
and Sita’s thought went back to the mother’s words. 
She was striving to recall her father’s pet names for 
her when a sigh from her mother arrested her atten- 
tion. 

“ What is it, mother? ” She spoke softly so as not 
to disturb her sleeping brother. 

“ Nothing — only — only I wish we had a school for 
you in Raj Gaon.” 

“ I can study at home, can I not ? ” 

“ Perhaps.” There was more doubt than promise 
expressed in the manner of utterance. Tulsiabai 
asked presently : — 

“ What would you have done, daughter, if I had 
not come for you ? ” 

“ I meant to keep going to school for three years 
so I could be a teacher. I thought you would come for 


Sita’s Mother 


131 

me some day, and I would go back and make a girls’ 
school for Raj Gaon.” Sita sat up in bed and talked 
eagerly. 

‘‘ It was your father’s dream, — a school for the 
girls of Raj Gaon.” 

“ If I could study at home ” 

“ Your uncle’s wife, my dear — she would think it 
a waste of time.” 

“ Time — what was time for — what would her new 
life be?” Sita asked herself. She would be a de- 
pendent. Not her mother but her eldest uncle’s illiter- 
ate wife would rule the household. Again a homesick 
feeling came over her. However, she soon dropped 
to sleep. 

Toward morning she awakened to find her mother 
sitting in the doorway watching the broken moon. 
Sita fancied her mother looked sad in the moonlight, 
but when she enquired as to the trouble, Tulsiabai re- 
plied with a smile that being wakeful she preferred 
to sit up. She went to Sita and holding her close in 
her arms, said, The gods, — the Great God has been 
good to me. He has given me to see my dear, dear 
daughter again, and He has saved her sweet eyes from 
blindness.” 

The next day Tulsiabai again talked with Sita about 
her school work and then said, “ It will take three 
years, yet ? ” 

“ It would take three years, but I am going with 
you, mother dear.” 

“ Perhaps — perhaps it would be better for you to 
stay.” 


132 


Storm and Stress 


Sita was astonished at the proposition and at first 
was most unwilling to consider it, but after further 
talk, and a conference with Miss Ray, she assented. 

Janak’s disappointment was mitigated by the gift 
of his sister’s photograph and the promise that she 
would come home before very long. 

When the boy and his mother stood by the cart 
ready to start, the latter said to the missionaries who 
were on the veranda to say good-bye : — 

“ May the blessing of the Great God be upon you 
for your goodness to my child.” Then looking to- 
ward the orphanage, May His blessing be upon all 
the motherless children.” 

Miss Ray responded: — 

“ Because of the sacrifice you have made to-day, 
my sister, the blessing of the Great God will be upon 
you and your home.” 

When left to themselves, Tulsiabai, after a few 
parting words of endearment to her daughter, said : — 

“ You will come to me, my daughter, in three years. 
You will learn all things.” 

I will learn, dear mother.” 

“ And when you come you will teach us, your 
brother and me, about the Great God and your Jesus — 
and we will believe.” 

Sita’s sorrowful face became radiant as she heard 
her mother’s words. 

“ You will believe? How good! ” 

During her visit Tulsiabai had only once made men- 
tion of Ram Chandra’s pegple. ‘'We never see the 


Sita’s Mother 


133 


tahsildar nowadays — nor any of the family/’ And 
when Sita made no reply she added, “ I fear that they 
— may not now wish the marriage.” 

‘‘ Nor do I wish the marriage,” exclaimed the girl, 
“ I hate them — hate them.” 


II 


TURMOIL 

W ITH the consideration which every one 
showed the little girl who had found and 
so soon lost her mother again she quickly 
rallied from the disappointment and became again a 
happy child. 

What her mother had said concerning the con- 
tinued estrangement of Ram Chandra’s people had 
confirmed the conclusion to which Sita had long be- 
fore come, that they meant to repudiate the marriage. 
Her shadowy dreams of the future now began to crys- 
tallize about her mother, her little brother, and the 
girls of Raj Gaon, and the rapidly growing girl, on 
the playgrounds as merry as any, in study hours ap- 
plied herself with increased ardour to her books. 

There remained no trace of the moodiness of her 
first months in Arampur, and with her physical 
growth Sita’s mind and heart were unfolding as natu- 
rally and as beautifully as the buds unfold in the 
springtime. 

But now the orphanage entered upon a period of 
change. A month after Tulsiabai’s visit. Miss Ray 
was attacked by her old enemy, malaria, and the doc- 
tor ordered her out of the country. She was averse 
to leaving before spring, the time appointed for her 
134 


Turmoil 


135 

already deferred furlough. Yet as the famine had 
not assumed great proportions, and as Miss Hillis 
came at once to take over the school, and as Miss Ver- 
non was expected back in December, it was with 
a mind at ease that Miss Ray set sail from 
Bombay. Happily for her she could not foresee the 
future. 

Miss Vernon having been pronounced by the Board 
physician unfit for service in India did not return for 
a year and the famine grew. During this year the 
orphanage had five different superintendents. At its 
close came a cheering letter which announced the re- 
turn of Miss Ray and Miss Vernon together, and that 
they would sail in two weeks. This meant that they 
were already well on their way, and the girls re- 
joiced. 

For before the coming of the letter Miss Hillis 
had fallen ill and gone to the hills, leaving only one 
of the zenana missionaries in the station. Doctor 
Doran. The physician was almost overwhelmed with 
her medical and famine work and Miss Hillis, before 
leaving, had put the school in Priya’s charge, and, 
being in desperate straits because unable to secure a 
missionary for the place, had employed a Eurasian 
clerk from Calcutta, a Mrs. Grill, to look after the 
children. 

Under her things went from bad to worse, and 
the day before Miss Ray and Miss Vernon were ex- 
pected matters culminated in a violent quarrel between 
her and some of the older girls. Mrs. Grill had pun- 
ished two of the little girls severely, when Sita made 


Storm and Stress 


136 

a vigorous protest. Then Amni had joined in, and 
saucily threatened to report her to Dr. Doran. 

Mrs. Grill struck Amni with the stick she held in 
her hand and, when Sita thrust herself between them, 
threatened to give both girls a beating. 

‘‘ You will not beat me! ’’ cried Sita as she started 
with Amni to the home of the matron, Matiyabai, who 
invariably took the part of the girls. “ I will take 

no beating from you or from any one, you black 

Mem Sahib.” 

The missionaries are coming to-morrow, and I’ll 
report you!” shouted Amni. '‘You dare not beat 
us! ” 

Mrs. Grill, beside herself with passion, followed by 
all the children of the orphanage, ran after the culprits, 
threatening the while at the top of her voice. 

" Just wait until you’re married and you’ll get a 

beating every day, you lying black girls, and I’ll 

give you a taste of it now.” 

She brandished her stick and in spite of Matiyabai’s 
remonstrance advanced with the stick raised. 

" I am going home,” cried Sita, making for the side 
gate, close at hand. 

" I shall run away ! ” shouted Amni, following. 

At this moment the gate opened from the outside 
and Miss Ray and Miss Vernon entered. They were 
greeted with laughter and tears from the girls, while 
Miss Ray explained their early arrival by saying that 
the steamer had arrived twelve hours ahead of time. 

" Oh, it is good that you have come ! ” sobbed Priya. 

“ Now we shall have justice! ” cried Amni, with a 


Turmoil 


137 

look of triumph at Mrs. Grill, who stood amazed, still 
holding the stick in her hand. 

“ Ray Miss Sahib-ji, Vernon Miss Sahib- ji, let me 
introduce you to our orphanage superintendent, Mrs. 
Grill,'' said Sita composedly. 

''Oh, mama-ji, she beats us!" piped up a shrill 
little voice. " She " 

Miss Ray raised her hand for silence. The mission- 
aries greeted Mrs. Grill politely, then began talking of 
their journey. 

It was weeks before the orphanage recovered its 
normal tone. Mrs. Grill was made assistant in the 
famine relief department, and the girls saw no more 
of her; but she had her followers among them and 
it was not until the missionaries put an interdict upon 
the mention of her name that the children ceased to 
quarrel over her. And it took time for Miss Ray and 
Miss Vernon to regain their old ascendency over the 
children. Sita thought Miss Vernon had changed, and 
was rebellious when assigned, in the orphanage work, 
the leadership of a class of new girls. Nor would 
she work under a leader either regularly or har- 
moniously. She was not only herself unhappy, but 
was a disturbing element among the others. 

Each of the big girls had been given from the new 
famine children a little " sister " to care for. Bulbul, 
Sita’s charge, was often seen with hair uncombed and 
dress untidy. One night when Sita had gone to sleep. 
Miss Vernon called her up, took her out on the 
veranda, and showed her little Bulbul lying there 
asleep and uncovered. To the house-mother's inquiries 


Storm and Stress 


138 

she responded sulkily that she could not find the child's 
rug and blanket, that she had forgotten, that Bulbul 
was black and had sores on her head, and that she 
did not want a little “ sister ” anyway. 

You certainly do not deserve one,” Miss Vernon 
replied, and calling a younger girl gave the little one 
into her care. The new “ big sister ” took special 
pains with the child and soon her head was well, her 
dark skin satiny, and she was playing happily with 
the other children. 

And Sita, except when in school, went about with 
a clouded brow, ashamed of herself and miserable. 


Ill 


THE COCKATOO 

I T was about this time that a wealthy and grateful 
patient gave Doctor Doran a fine salmon-coloured 
cockatoo, which she in turn gave to the girls. 
The bird’s beauty, cunning ways, and, above all, his 
vernacular speech, delighted the children. Sita, 
charmed with the pet, hovered about him, repeating 
his favourite expressions and when the dinner gong 
drew the other children away she still remained talk- 
ing to him. Here Doctor Doran found her when she 
came to feed him, and great was her astonishment 
when Sita asked to have the care of the tota [parrot]. 
But when she looked at the girl’s enraptured face she 
had not the heart to refuse and, consulting with Miss 
Vernon, arranged that Sita should be one of two to 
look after the cockatoo. Priya was the other. The 
two tended the bird together, always feeding him be- 
fore they ate in the morning. They had come to do 
this because of his insistence, for he knew when it 
was breakfast time, and if not fed first would scold 
at a great rate. 

Sita’s devotion to the cockatoo continued and great 
was her indignation when his privileges were cur- 
tailed. At first he was allowed the freedom of the 


139 


140 


Storm and Stress 


compound, but the girls found him one day helping 
himself from a big rice kettle and after that he was 
banished from the cook-house. Then he concluded 
to try his new bill on Miss Vernon’s desk and he was 
invited to her room no more. Still they were great 
friends; he would follow the house-mother to her 
room and, taking offence when she closed the door, 
would stand and pout like a child. This amused the 
other girls immensely but Sita sympathized with the 
tota and thought Miss Vernon cruel. The parrot took 
great delight in running after the children and peck- 
ing at their bare feet. This the larger girls did not 
mind for they enjoyed the fun of skipping out of his 
way. But the little ones could not always avoid him, 
and after he had hurt several Miss Vernon ordered 
that he be kept on his perch, except at such times as 
some one could look after him. Sita thought this 
hard and she and Mohani spent part of their playtime 
each day with the tota. The children were all fond 
of the pet and he became one of the important per- 
sonages of the household. 

Now it came about in the holidays that Miss Ver- 
non went to Calcutta, taking Priya with her to have 
her eyes fitted with spectacles. Very few of the girls 
had been to the great city, but Priya’s pleasure in 
having the opportunity was tempered by her re- 
luctance in leaving the cockatoo. She asked Mohani 
to take her place and her last words to Sita were. 
Remember the tota.” 

But Mohani was taken ill the very day they went 
away and this left the entire care of the bird to Sita. 


The Cockatoo 


141 

Four days later when Miss Vernon and Priya re- 
turned, Sita met them with the light gone out 
of her eyes and with the dead cockatoo in her 
hands. 

“ Mama-ji, I want to go home.” Though it was 
after dark, Sita was standing at the door of Miss 
Ray’s room in the bungalow. 

What is the trouble ? Come in, daughter, and we 
will talk about it.” 

Sita, a picture of dejection, entered and sat down 
at Miss Ray’s feet. When she raised her eyes they 
were without light as she said: Mama-ji, my heart 
is broken.” 

“ Oh, no ! I hope not. Hearts get some hard knocks 
in this world, but, my dear, hearts are not easily 
broken.” 

But in answer to her genial smile no light came to 
the girl’s face, and Miss Ray questioned in earnest 
sympathy : “ What is it ? Do you not want to tell me, 
daughter? What has gone wrong?” 

“ Everything, everything.” 

But that cannot be. You are in fine health, — 
though few of us know how to appreciate good health 
until it is gone, — but you are doing beautiful work 
at school. I have been wanting to tell you how de- 
lighted I am with your progress. Why, at this rate, 
you will be ready for college in another year. I ex- 
pect great things of you, daughter.” 

The girl’s mournful face lightened for a moment, 
then her eyes became suffused with tears as she said. 


142 


Storm and Stress 


‘‘ Mama-ji, do not expect anything of me. Oh, I am 
so miserable and everybody hates me.” 

Miss Ray protested and then Sita told her story, 
her voice broken and trembling as she spoke of the 
pretty ways and wonderful doings of the cockatoo. 

And he is dead, my tota/' she concluded, and my 
heart is broken, and the girls all hate me and say that 
I killed him and they know that I only forgot.” She 
paused for a moment, then said: “Vernon Mama-ji 
and the Doctor Miss Sahib hate me too. I want to 
go home.” 

“ What do you mean, Sita? You talk nonsense.” 

“ The Doctor Miss Sahib said that I was a cruel 
girl and Vernon Mama-ji looked at me so with tears 
in her eyes. She hates me, I know. She makes me 
do work that I do not like. You know she kept me 
out of school a whole day!” The girl spoke resent- 
fully. 

The teacher stepped to the door and looked out 
into the moonlight, then turning to Sita proposed that 
she spend the night with her. She looked pleased at 
this rare privilege, and went at once, — she had left the 
orphanage without permission, — to ask Miss Vernon’s 
approval. 

Upon her return with her bedding, she found her 
hostess on the veranda ready for a walk in the garden. 
As they walked, Sita listened with increasing interest 
to the talk, first about the stars, then the visit to 
America, and the girl presently found herself giving 
her version of life at the orphanage during this 
period. 


The Cockatoo 


143 

It was a lively story she told of the five different 
superintendents. 

The first, Miss Burns, a new missionary, had in- 
sufficient knowledge of the language and, too, she 
had had no experience in such work and was worried 
with the discipline, and by Christmas she had begged 
to be relieved, and Mrs. Dale, the zenana missionary, 
had given up her work and taken over the orphanage. 
The girls thought her very severe at first. “ But,” 
Sita went on, Dale Mem Sahib kept things in fine 
order and when we got used to her ways we liked her 
and were sorry when she had to go. You know one of 
the missionaries in another station died, and another 
was taken ill and had to go home.” 

‘‘ I know.” 

Sita then told how for a time they had gotten along 
with only Matiyabai. “ We big girls would not obey 
her. Yes, it was wrong,” admitted the girl. “ Then 
came dear Foley Miss Sahib. She was only a half 
caste, but she was beautiful and my friend.” Sita 
was extravagant in her praise. “ Oh, but my heart 
was heavy,” she exclaimed, ‘‘ when she had to go home 
to her sick mother.” 

Of Mrs. Grill Sita had not one good word. 

How she did hate me ! ” she cried, “ but she never 
dared to beat me. She knew I would not take it ! ” 

But why did Mrs. Grill hate you? Did you give 
her cause ? ” 

‘‘ Cause a-plenty ! ” said Sita, laughing, “ but she 
gave me cause first. The second day after she came, 
mama-ji, I got sick, but I hated to miss the study hour 


144 


Storm and Stress 


and so I said nothing about it until the hour was half 
over. Then I was in such pain that I could not study, 
so I asked Mrs. Grill to excuse me. But she would 
not believe that I was sick. ‘ You need not tell me,' 
she said. ‘ I know you black girls and your lying 
tongues^ and you need not think you can feed me with 
deceit as you do the missionaries ! ' " 

“ Oh ! " exclaimed Miss Ray, horrified. How 
could she ! " 

“ Her mouth was full of lies, and, mama-ji, the girls 
deceived her ten times as much as they do the mission- 
aries. I never tried to please her." 

“ Perhaps you tried to displease her ? " 

‘‘Yes, mama-ji, I did. I always took the part of 
the girls she punished and she did not dare beat the 
little ones when I was around." 

“ Anything else? " 

“ Ji," answered the girl slowly. “ I would not do 
any kind of work I did not like and she could not 
make me. I worried her a lot at the last; but, 
mama-ji, I never did lie to her as many of the girls 
did." 

“ I am glad to hear that, more glad than I can say. 
Love of truth, daughter, is a beautiful thing." The 
gladness was evident in Miss Ray's voice as she put 
her arm about the girl, and walked with her comment- 
ing on the story. 

Sita nestled close, happy in her teacher's fond 
praise, yet, when the latter, after a silence, mentioned 
the cockatoo, reminding the girl that all the children 
loved him, and asked if she was not sorry for them, 


The Cockatoo 


145 

her voice was full of protest and she stopped short in 
her walk as she replied : — 

But, mama-ji, they make me so angry saying, 
‘ You killed the tota/ when they knew how I loved 
him, and that I did not mean to hurt him/' 

“ My dear," said the teacher presently, “ you 
have heard the story of the false hermit who 
lived in a dark jungle, and who dug a well in the 
road?" 

“Yes, I know the story. He was a robber; he 
watched the road, and when he saw a well-dressed 
traveller with a bundle, he ran and uncovered the well, 
so that the man might fall in and drown." 

“ Well, have you heard the story of the true hermit 
who lived in another jungle? He dug a well that 
travellers might find water." 

“ I have not heard. That was a work of merit." 

“ Yes, a work of merit as Hindus believe. A work 
of mercy as Christians think. Well, the true hermit 
dug his well in the road so that no one should miss 
it. But the curb of the well was almost on a level 
with the ground, and the man took great care td cover 
it every night. This was at first, when it was new; 
later, the road being unfrequented and few persons 
passing, the hermit grew careless and sometimes 
neglected the matter. And one night, when the cover 
was off, a traveller came along and fell into the open 
well. He shrieked in terror as he fell and the hermit 
ran to save him." 

“ Oh, I know how he felt — like I did when Amni 
fell in the well." 


Storm and Stress 


146 

But the hermit was too late.” 

“ Too late ? How terrible ! ” 

“Yes; the man drowned. The hermit was much 
troubled, and he sought out the dead man’s family and 
had the body taken to them. His wife and daughters 
mourned but the men of the family had the hermit 
arrested.” 

“ For murder? ” 

“Yes, he was arrested for murder, but was con- 
victed of manslaughter, because he had not intention- 
ally caused the man’s death.” 

“ Convicted and put in prison ? ” 

“ Yes, daughter. He was very, very angry, angry 
that he should be punished, and angry at the tears 
and reproachful looks of the drowned man’s wife and 
children.” 

“ He — did — not mean to do it.” 

There was a silence for a time as they walked, then 
Miss Ray stopped in a group of orange trees laden 
with fruit and asked her companion if she remembered 
when they were set out. 

“ Ji,” she replied, “it was the year that I came; 
and two of them bore oranges the year you went 
home.” 

“ Which ones ? ” 

“ These two near together on the east. I remem- 
ber them well because that year they both were filled 
with bloom, and we thought there would be a lot of 
oranges. And don’t you remember, mama-ji, this one 
bore only one or two, while the one you are under 
bore nearly a hundred ? ” 


The Cockatoo 


147 

I recollect. I know every tree in the orchard. 
That one was a disappointment; but see it now ! 

My dear,” she began again, holding the girl close 
as they walked, “ Vernon Miss Sahib and I planted 
an orchard of another kind, and we watered and dug 
and tended the young trees; and we loved them, and 
were not willing that any one else should have the 
care of our orchard. But it became necessary for us 
to leave it for a time, both of us; and under the new 
gardeners the young trees were neglected; some were 
stunted, and some that were straight and beautiful, 
putting forth an abundance of the fairest blossoms 
when we left, we found when we returned in fruit 
time, crooked and ugly and with little fruit.” 

The child was silent for a while, then said with a 
quaver in her voice: — 

‘‘ Mama-ji, I am the crooked, unfruitful tree, the 
ugliest of all.” 

No, not that, dear; the Sita tree has disappointed 
me more than I can say, perhaps because I expected 
too much. It was hard to have so many gardeners, 
but some of the trees have fruited beautifully. The 
Mohani and the Priya tree and others do not seem 
to have suffered.” 

Sita began to say something about Mrs. Grill, when 
the missionary answered : “ Mrs. Grill did much 

harm, unintentionally, of course, to very many of the 
girls. But to you, personally. Miss Foley, I think, 
did more injury than Mrs. Grill.” 

“ Miss Foley? Why! she was my best friend.” 

“ Miss Foley is a fine girl and will make one of our 


Storm and Stress 


148 

best missionaries. She did excellent work. But she 
is very young and — a true friend is like a good mother. 
Do you think the mother who pets and humours her 
child like Puni is better than one like Miriam, 
who faithfully shows her children their faults and 
helps them to overcome them ? The mother who helps 
her child grow so strong and brave that she presently 
delights in removing obstacles and doing disagreeable 
things, — she is the true mother. 

“ No one can make a success of life who cannot do 
unpleasant things, and endure deserved reproof. You 
deserve no credit for doing things that you must be 
made to do, and not until you make yourself do what 
you ought can you be a girl of real character — a true, 
whole-hearted Christian. Life is a warfare, and each 
of us must be a soldier.” 

I am a Rajputni born, I ought to make a good 
soldier.” 

They walked for a time in silence, when Miss Ray 
spoke again. 

“ I must tell you something, my daughter. It was 
with my approval that Miss Vernon kept you out of 
school that day; we planned it together that our little 
girl might understand that to learn housework is more 
important to a girl than to learn books.” 

Oh, mama-ji ! ” 

“ I did not think so at your age and I sometimes 
neglected my work for my books.” 

“ I cannot think that you could neglect any- 
thing.” 


The Cockatoo 


149 

After a time Miss Ray asked, “ You wish to go 
home, Sita ? 

“Not now, mama-ji. I am not ready nor fit now 
to teach my people the Jesus religion/^ 

“If you should go, what about your marriage? ” 

“ Why, mama-ji, my betrothed does not want me, 
and he could not marry a Christian.” 

“ You know your mother was here again, just 
before I came? ” 

“ Yes, and, word of sorrow ! I was away ! ” 

“ I think you do not know why she came. It was 
to say that your betrothed calls you.” 

“ Oh, mama-ji ! ” exclaimed Sita. “ And his people 
did nothing for my father in the famine. I never 
want to see his face again.” 

“ Yet the marriage may hold if he persists. How- 
ever, Miss Hillis talked to your mother and we hope 
she may persuade Ram Chandra to give you up.” 

“ They would want me to give up my religion. I can 
never go home, never.” 

It was an earnest, tear-stained face that met Miss 
Ray's eyes, when a little later they went inside. “ I 
am sorry,” the girl said before going to the dressing- 
room where she was to sleep, “ I am sorry for Ver- 
non Mama-ji and the Doctor Miss Sahib. I know 
they loved the totaf* 

“ So they did, but their great grief, daughter, was 
not for the bird, as you suppose, but for our beautiful 
tree. However, we all think that after this loss our 
dear girl will be different. And our Sita is worth 
many parrots.” 


Storm and Stress 


150 

As Sita looked into the loving, tear-filled eyes, her 
chin began to quiver and she hurried to the adjoining 
room where she was to sleep. 

An hour later she returned to find Miss Ray kneel- 
ing at her bedside. When she arose and smiled Sita 
took both her hands, and with radiant face, said: — 

‘‘ You have helped me, mama-ji. This soldier shall 
be true. This tree shall bear fruit.” 

Much fruit,” responded Miss Ray. 

And I shall never forget my poor tota.'' 


IV 


WHITE LILIES 

I T was a year after the death of the cockatoo that 
Mr. and Mrs. Gracie invited the orphanage boys 
and girls to a picnic in their beautiful grounds, 
which covered about ten acres and consisted in part 
of woodland. No other such ideal place for a picnic 
was to be found in that region, and for this reason as 
well as on account of the honour conferred the chil- 
dren received their invitation with unbounded delight. 

Mrs. Gracie, on the day appointed, met the girls 
at the veranda with a smile that went far toward dis- 
pelling their diffidence and went with them about 
the compound. Many of them in awe of the great 
lady clustered at first about Miss Ray and Miss Ver- 
noon, but increasing numbers joined the group near 
their hostess. Among these were Sita, Amni, and 
Mohani. 

Amni, by this time the largest of all the girls, was at 
first silent and bashful, but Mrs. Grade’s kindness 
and Sita’s easy manner put her self-consciousness to 
flight and soon, her eyes dancing with pleasure, she 
was chatting with her usual vivacity. 

Between her and Sita was Mohani, still a slight 
girl, who said little and clung shyly to her friends, but 
her joy was manifested from the smile which played 
151 


152 


Storm and Stress 


over her regular features. Sita, now almost a half 
head taller than Mohani, and fully as tall as Amni, 
was so keenly alive to the beauties displayed that she 
had no room for thought of herself, and her face as 
well as her enthusiastic words expressed her apprecia- 
tion. It was to this responsive group that Mrs. Gracie 
addressed most of her remarks. Many of the girls 
when they reached the rose garden forgot their shy- 
ness and cried out with delight and wonder at the col- 
lection and variety of colour, the profusion and the 
beauty of the roses. And when, a little later, their 
hostess gave them permission to go to the woodland 
hard by, the children salaamed repeatedly and then, 
their eyes shining with joy, sped away to the woods. 

Sita, Mohani, and Amni stopped with the smaller 
children, whom they had volunteered to amuse, near 
the edge of the wood where Mrs. Gracie had ordered 
rugs and chairs placed for the ladies. 

They had not been long at play when they saw 
the boys coming with Mrs. Ashley, Pansy, and a native 
teacher. The boys at once carried off Miss Ray and 
Miss Vernon to join in their play and when they had 
passed, Sita went to Mrs. Ashley to get Pansy, who 
was a favourite with the children. 

When the frolic was at its height there came a 
startled outcry, then frightened voices screaming. 

There was a rush in the direction of the alarm 
and as the excited crowd drew near they heard again, 
''Samp! [snake], call the Sahib! Call the boys! 
Samp ! ” 

Then silence fell and when the ladies reached the 


White Lilies 


153 


children they were standing in a wide circle with 
scared faces, while Sita in the centre was giving the 
finishing stroke to a tiny snake. 

“ The Kariats are deadly if they are small,” com- 
mented Mrs. Gracie, ‘‘ and your big girl has done well 
to kill this one.” 

Mrs. Ashley at once caught up her little daughter 
and when all began discussing the matter Sita slipped 
away with Joy and Bulbul, who still caught their 
breath in broken sobs. 

It was perhaps two hours later that a second cry 
broke in upon the day’s merriment, accompanied this 
time by a crash. 

“Is any one hurt? What is it?” inquired Miss 
Ray, who happened to be near. 

“ The tree,” several answered, pointing to a fine tree 
from which dangled a broken limb. 

“ Who did that ? ” questioned the hostess sharply, 
coming up out of breath. “ That is the Sahib’s 
favourite tree and it belongs to the Sirkar.” 

A solemn silence rested on the group of large girls 
and boys who stood near. 

“ Who did it? Did you? Did you?” asked the 
hostess of different children. “ Of course no one did 
it,” she exclaimed as one after another made denial. 
“ It broke itself. I wonder what I am to say to the 
Sahib.” 

There were two girls who had not been questioned, 
Sita and Mohani. The former looked at her frown- 
ing hostess and Miss Ray’s pained face, then with the 
light gone out of her eyes, spoke : — 


Storm and Stress 


154 

I was swinging, Mem Sahib'ji, when the limb 
broke. I am so sorry.” 

‘‘ I too was in the swing,” added Mohani, tremu- 
lously. ‘‘ Please forgive, Mem Sahib-ji.” 

Mrs. Gracie’s face cleared as if by magic. 

Never mind,” she answered. The Sahib will 
doubtless get over it and the Sirkar, too. I am glad 
to know. Miss Ray, that some of your orphanage chil- 
dren can speak the truth. It is a rare accomplishment 
in this country.” 

“ Very many of our girls and boys are truthful,” 
said Miss Ray, smiling. Then she cast a questioning 
glance at the group near the tree and added, “ But 
some who mean to speak the truth may trip when 
taken by surprise. And, Mrs. Gracie, they were not 
all in the swing.” 

“ Oh, no, of course not ! — ^yet — I fancy ” She 

stopped suddenly, not giving expression to her thought 
that the two girls had not of themselves done the mis^ 
chief. 

Nor had they. It happened in this wise; Amni and 
Mohani’s brother, Lakshman, were swinging the two 
girls when Sita began to rally the studious, slender 
youth about his delicate appearance. Goaded by her 
banter he had presently challenged Amni to a trial 
of skill in the attempt to reach the branch upon which 
the swing rope was tied. Amni laughingly accepted 
the challenge and the two straightway began their con- 
test. 

It was of short duration. In the second effort the 
youth touched the branch which Amni, her weight 


White Lilies 


155 

and laughter against her, failed to reach. His success 
sobered her and next time she made an extraordinary 
effort and, Lakshman springing at the same time, they 
grasped the branch simultaneously, at the very instant 
that Sita, to avert the threatened disaster, put her foot 
to the ground and, exerting all her strength, brought 
the swing to a sudden stop. With the combined shock 
came the break and the crash, and all four tumbled to 
the ground. Amni had but just picked herself up 
when Mrs. Grade appeared with her sharp question 
and to her lips rose instant denial. 

The boy in falling had hurt his knee and, limping 
to one side, he sat down to rub it. The other children 
crowded about and screened him from view, and he 
escaped interrogation. In this, until he heard Sita’s 
confession, he thought himself fortunate; then he 
wished that he had spoken first; but as he had not, 
he thought it too late to redeem himself; and, the girls 
not implicating him, he remained silent. 

It was a silence that cost him dear. 

The ladies at the time said nothing of their suspi- 
cions; and the children played on until the hour for 
the picnic luncheon or crazy dinner,” as they called 
it. This was served in the edge of the woods not far 
from the rose garden. Sita and Mohani had been 
placed by the hostess nearest to the group of foreign- 
ers, and to their conversation the interest of the girls 
was often attracted. 

The Grades had in past years made occasional calls 
at the orphanage ; but, for a year, Mr. Gracie having 
supplied during this period for an official who was in 


Storm and Stress 


156 

England on furlough, they had been at another sta- 
tion. Sita, who had not seen the Deputy Commissioner 
since his return, was pleased when, as he joined the 
ladies at tea, he recognized her with a smile and a 
nod; and while the “crazy dinner “ progressed she 
glanced often at the kindly face and large shapely 
head of the man who represented the Sirkar. As 
he sat at the farther side of the group, she at first 
heard little that he said beyond an inquiry he made 
of Mrs. Ashley concerning her husband's tour in the 
district and something about his children at school in 
Scotland. But presently he took a seat by Miss 
Ray, and when they began to talk of the education 
of Indian girls, she became so absorbed that she 
forgot to eat. The subject-matter was one which 
the Deputy Commissioner had studied with extraor- 
dinary interest, and as for Miss Ray, it was her 
life. 

After luncheon the hostess drew the attention of 
the children to a footstool upon which Pansy was sit- 
ting, — a stuffed elephant's foot. She told them that 
the elephant to which the foot had belonged was the 
wickedest ever known in this region and that he was 
reported to have killed fifty persons. “ Many Sahibs 
hunted him," she concluded, “ but it was Mr. Gracie 
who finally put an end to the brute." 

The Deputy Commissioner, though embarrassed by 
his wife's praise, yielded to the requests of the ladies 
and the appealing faces of the children, and gave the 
story. He so told it, however, as to confer much of 
the credit on his one European and many native assist- 


White Lilies 


IS7 

ants in the hunt. Nevertheless, in Sita’s eyes the 
Great Sahib now became a hero. 

After the story, Mr. Gracie invited the children to 
the conservatory, and when the little ones had been 
guided through, the older boys and girls were 
allowed to linger. Sita and Mohani were enjoying 
an especially beautiful corner when Lakshman 
came up. His sister talked with him, but her com- 
panion continued to give her whole attention to the 
plants. 

“ Please forgive me, Sitabai,’' he said presently, put- 
ting his hands together with a smile. 

Forgiveness is not,’' she replied. 

Now Lakshman was a fine-looking youth, was of 
the Rajput caste and the brother of Sita’s best friend. 
He was leader of the current class in the Boys’ High 
School as she was in the girls’ and he had found more 
favour with her than had any other of the boys. At 
her reply he turned ashen, and began to stammer ex- 
cuses for his conduct. But as she gave no heed he 
made way for others and moved on. 

The two girls were standing before a great pot of 
white lilies when Mr. Gracie came up. 

“You admire the lily, girls?” he questioned. 

“ Ji,” assented Mohani. 

“ Admire it, Sahib-ji? ” Sita replied, “ Oh, so much. 
It makes me feel — I cannot say it ! ” Her radiant 
face, however, spoke for her. The next instant 
she caught a glimpse of Lakshman’s pale face and the 
light left her eyes. 

“ Sahib-ji,” she said at once, “ I want to tell you 


Storm and Stress 


158 

that I was one of the culprits who broke your beauti- 
ful tree. It is ruined and I am so sorry.” 

Mohani, too, confessed and apologized. 

It is a matter of small moment. I have examined 
the tree and find that it can be trimmed into symmetry 
again. But I wonder that you two girls could break 
that great limb.” 

There was something in the magistrate’s manner 
that suggested a question and the returning smile 
again left Sita’s face, as drawing herself up and 
looking straight at him, she replied with set 
lips: — 

I helped to break the tree.” 

Oh, I am not asking for information,” the Deputy 
Commissioner replied, with an understanding smile, 
“ for I know that to ‘ report ’ is, in India, even a more 
heinous offence than at home.” 

He now commended Sita for killing the snake and 
when she became confused remarked : — 

“ However, since you are a Rajputni and of the 
king caste, you come naturally by your courage.” 

“ Oh, but. Sahib- ji, there are many of the girls of 
lower castes who are braver and far better than I. 
Ray Miss Sahib says we are all the Great King’s 
daughters.” 

True, and I am the Great King’s son.” He spoke 
reverently and both were silent. 

Seeing Miss Ray approaching with a number of 
her charges, Sita asked about something he had said 
to her concerning the education of girls. 

The Deputy Commissioner repeated his statement; 


White Lilies 


159 


then including in his hearers the girls gathering about 
them, told them the eye of India was upon them, as 
the advance guards of India’s young womanhood. 
Their faces brightened, while a number of boys in 
the background listened with no less intentness. As 
the magistrate talked, he observed that Sita’s eyes 
were often upon the lily. 

The white lily,” he said after a time, symbolizes 
ideal young womanhood. You have, of course, read 
Longfellow’s beautiful lines to ‘ Maidenhood.’ Per- 
haps some of you can remember them.” 

There was a call from the girls for Sita and she, 
gazing upon the lilies, recited the poem. Her lips re- 
mained slightly apart as, with irradiate face, she con- 
cluded : — 

‘ For a smile of God thou art.’ ” 

It was with a reverent expression upon his noble 
face that the Deputy Commissioner, with his eyes upon 
Sita, repeated after her, ‘‘ ‘ For a smile of God thou 
art.’ ” 

Mrs. Grade echoed the words and her eyes, too, 
were upon the King’s daughter. 

The girls had little more than reached home that 
evening, when a servant of the Great Sahib followed, 
bringing to them, as a souvenir of the occasion, the 
pot of white lilies. 

They were given into Sita’s charge and she watched 
and tended them with devotion. One day it happened 
when Miss Ray inquired for her that a child new to 
the orphanage answered, ‘‘ I know where she is, mama- 
ji; she is worshipping the lilies.” 


i6o Storm and Stress 

The girls who heard laughed at the mistake, but 
the teacher went to see what had caused the strange 
announcement. She found Sita standing with rapt 
expression and face illumined before the snow-white 
lilies. 


V 


MOHANFS BROTHER 

T he year that followed the picnic meant much 
to Sita. During that cold season Mohani’s 
brother Lakshman beset her with petitions for 
forgiveness, and when she gave him no heed, but, 
instead, markedly avoided him, he wrote her a 
note. 

Now although the boys and girls of the Christian 
community were free to talk to each other when they 
met at social, at Endeavour or other meetings, the 
writing of notes was interdicted and Sita was in a 
dilemma. She, with all the older girls of the orphan- 
age, had promised Miss Ray to hand over to her any 
note that might come into their hands. But Mohani 
begged for her brother and made gentle suggestion 
that possibly her friend might have done wrong in 
refusing him pardon. The note contained nothing but 
avowals of penitence and appeals for forgiveness, and 
upon reflection Sita told Lakshman that his offence 
was not against her. She again became friendly with 
him and she kept the note. 

Mohani was content, but not so her brother. Sita 
had not placed him upon the old footing; moreover, 
as he brooded over the matter and studied her beauti- 
ful face he began to wish for something more than 

i6i 


Storm and Stress 


162 

the old footing. He sent her a second note in which 
he protested that she had not forgiven him and en- 
treated the favour of the Lotus-eyed. 

This time she did not consult his sister but carried 
both notes to Miss Ray. 

They are from Mohani’s brother/’ she said, “ and 
I do not want to get him into trouble. Must you 
report him to the Padre Sahib? Cannot you talk 
to him yourself?” 

‘‘I’ll see; Mr. Ashley is still touring. You think 
the boy would rather fall into my hands ? ” 

“ Of course, mama-ji. It is good to come to you 
with anything. It is sweeter to be rebuked by you 
than to be praised by others. And, mama-ji — I wish 
you wouldn’t read the notes. I cannot explain them, 
and — and he is Mohani’s brother.” 

Sita was surprised to see that tears stood in Miss 
Ray’s eyes, while she repeated with a smile : — 

“ He is Mohani’s brother, and Mohani is one of 
my dearest girls. I’ll see.” 

The next week Mr. Ashley returned from a tour 
in the district and when he called at the zenana mission 
bungalow. Miss Ray sent for Sita. 

As she came from the orphanage in answer to the 
summons she wondered if she was to be interrogated 
about the notes, and was relieved when the mission- 
ary told her that he had visited Raj Gaon on his 
tour and had seen and talked with her uncle 
and her little brother. When he had told her 
all the news about her mother and the family, he 
said : — 


Mohani’s Brother 163 

‘‘ By the way, I saw the fine house of the tahsildar, 
your father-in-law.’’ 

“ Sahib- ji, he is not. I cannot have him for my 
father-in-law.” 

‘‘ I hope you may not, daughter. I hope they will 
not make any trouble. I went to Raj Gaon for the 
express purpose of learning if the tahsildar would re- 
lease you from the marriage contract.” 

And he would not ? ” 

‘‘ He was away, and I did not see him. Perhaps 
— I have been thinking that it may be as well that 
I did not see him. If reminded of the matter he 
might claim you at once.” 

When Mr. Ashley had gone Sita went to Miss Ray 
and asked with thoughtful face : — 

Miss Sahib- ji, Mr. Gracie would not let them 
take me, and I a Christian girl ? ” 

I do not know. I do not see how he could, but 
the laws are made for men.” 

‘‘ And you. Miss Sahib- ji, would you let them take 
me?” 

‘‘If the struggle comes, I will defend you with all 
my strength. Do you not know it, daughter ? ” 

“ I know it, mama-ji.” 

Several times these days Sita met Lakshman’s re- 
proachful eyes and knew that he was in trouble. Later 
the look changed and she was not surprised when at 
a social he sought her out. 

“ I have done it at last, Sitabai.” 

“ Done what ? ” 

“Why, what you have been wanting me to do. 


Storm and Stress 


164 

Ray Miss Sahib asked me to come to her one day, 
and when I went she gave me my chittis [notes] 
unread, she said.” 

“ Ray Miss Sahib cannot lie.” 

‘‘ Do not I know? I told her that day all about it 
— the tree and everything. And when she asked me 
what I proposed to do, it was perfectly clear to me 
what I ought to do. ' I cannot,’ I said, and my mouth 
was so dry I could scarcely speak, ^ I cannot tell him, 
— not at this late day.’ Miss Ray smiled and said 
she was sure I would do the right thing. But I held 
out until my misery became unbearable and — and — 
I thought if I did not confess you would never forgive 
me, fully.” 

“You have not wronged me, but I am glad for 
Mohani’s sake.” 

“ I was grieved that you should give my chittis to 
Miss Ray.” Lakshman drew nearer and lowered his 
voice. 

“ It was a promise,” she repeated, moving toward 
Mohani. 

“ It was right, no doubt, — ^but — ^but — I have been 
so cowardly that you can never forgive me.” 

“ You did act the coward and cowardice, I 

and you Mohani’s brother and a twice-born soldier.” 

“ Twice born? I never took the sacred thread.” 

“ I do not mean that you are a dwij * [twice- 
born].” 

“ You mean that I dishonoured my Rajput birth, 

^ A man of either of the first three castes of the Hindus whose 
investiture with the sacred thread is considered a second birth. 


Mohani’s Brother 165 

and that I forgot that I was a Christian ? It is quite 
true, and there is never forgiveness.” 

There is always forgiveness if — when we are — 
different. You will have many chances to prove your- 
self.” 

Ray Miss Sahib told me that a soldier, to be sea- 
soned, must bear cold and heat, hunger and thirst, long 
marches and fierce fighting ” 

Thik [correct]. I am sure you are going to be a 
brave soldier,” Sita said. 

“ God helping me I will. And we shall be comrades 
again?” 

But Sita had nodded him a dismissal and was 
talking with the girls. 

About this time Miss Ray invited to Arampur the 
Pandita Kamliabai. 

Though her time was short she gave two addresses 
to the mission high school and college. The older 
girls, too, had the opportunity of meeting her socially, 
and her theme, whether in public speech or private 
conversation, was ever the same, the higher education 
of girls. 

Kamliabai’s coarse white widow’s garb served to 
depreciate rather than enhance what comeliness she 
possessed. Though of the Aryan complexion she 
was not beautiful of feature, yet her live soul lighted 
her face with rare loveliness. 

The pandita was to Sita a revelation. It was not 
her erudition, not her renown as an educator, nor 
her eloquence as a speaker, nor yet the story of her 


Storm and Stress 


1 66 

life, nor her consuming interest in her countrywomen 
— not one but all of these and more that contributed 
to her charming personality. Sita, in accordance with 
the belief of her people, had, when a child, regarded her 
birth as a girl in the light of a calamity. And though 
under the new teaching this thought had died, its 
root still survived, and it was not until she saw in 
the pandita, her own countrywoman, the embodiment 
of what East and West can do for Indian woman- 
hood, that she realized that it was a glorious thing 
to be a woman, and to the appeal of the pandita's per- 
sonality her whole being responded with exultant joy 
and a reverence almost worshipful. 

‘‘ Mama-ji,’’ she said to Miss Ray, after the pandita 
had gone, “ I do not want to play any more and I 
want to sit up every night until midnight.” 

Indeed. I thought you liked to play and to sleep.” 

I do,” admitted Sita, ‘‘ I mean, I did, but now 
I want to be a pandita. And, mama-ji, I get up when 
the gong sounds now, most always.” 

Be a pandita by all means, but girls of fourteen 
must sleep and play or they’ll never be anything worth 
while.” 

“ But, mama-ji, I am of fourteen years and two 
months and the strongest girl in the orphanage; Doc- 
tor Doran says so.” 

“ And we mean to keep you so.” 

“ Miss Sahib- ji, I must study Sanscrit hours and 
hours a day or I cannot be a pandita.” 

“ My dear, I knew that you advanced girls would 
want to learn Sanscrit, and I have meant for some 


Mohani’s Brother 


167 

time to add it to our High School curriculum. I have 
engaged the professor of Sanscrit in the Boys’ High 
School and College to teach the class.” 

Oh, mama-ji,” cried Sita, her eyes shining, ‘‘ can 
I ever thank you enough ? ” 

And I have arranged with Miss Vernon that the 
four girls in the Sanscrit class have no more house- 
work until vacation, but instead of it gardening.” 

“ Gardening is such fun, and we may sit up until 
twelve o’clock ? ” 

Until nine-thirty, my dear.” 

“ Mama-ji,” pleaded the girl, but looking into the 
clear, smiling eyes of her teacher, she knew that the 
answer was final. “ Well, mama-ji, then I shall have 
to study hard, hard, hard. Many salaams, mama-ji,” 
Sita replied, on the, run before the words were out 
of her mouth. “ Amni,” she called as she ran, “ come 
and play elephant,” and of the voices that floated back 
in peals of laughter, none were fuller of merriment 
than that of the would-be pandita. 

Mohani’s brother sent Sita no more notes and if 
she read admiration in his eyes, she had all her life 
been accustomed to admiration, and when he spoke of 
comradeship she answered with talk about Sanscrit 
and the Pandita Kamliabai. 



i 


i 


i 

i 




BOOK III 


THE TRIAL 



I 


IN THE NAME OF THE TAHSILDAR 

^^^lALAAM, Miss Sahib. We have come for our 
brother’s wife.” The speaker, a thin, scowl- 
ing man with a sickly blotched complexion, 
stood on the front veranda of the bungalow in a white 
costume which was brightened by a yellow sash and a 
crimson turban, and embellished by a necklace of 
rubies, ear-rings of gold, and a variety of showy finger 
rings. 

“ Salaam,” replied Miss Ray, as she stood in the 
doorway with a smile of welcome for the speaker and 
his companion. “ Please come in.” Then as they 
made no move to accept her invitation she spoke 
again : — 

May I ask whom I have the honour of address- 
ing?" 

“ Our name is Krishna Rao.” 

‘‘ Doing favour, allow me,” interrupted the second 
man, with a gesture of apology. Then, looking at the 
lady, he said: “This is Krishna Rao-ji, bahadur, 
Rajput, eldest and most worthy son of the renowned 
and illustrious Narian Ram Chandra, Lakshman 
Bharat, tahsildar residing at Raj Gaon.” 

Miss Ray, upon hearing the last words, paled, but 
she still smiled as she continued to look at the second 
171 


IJ2 


The Trial 


speaker, a heavy-set man who was arrayed in flowing 
white vesture and black velvet cap which set off 
his intellectual face and added to his air of dis- 
tinction. 

And your name ? ” 

“ We are Ganga Prasad, a Brahman and a bar- 
rister.'’ The manner of the speaker indicated exces- 
sive pride, and his soft voice which before, as he 
sounded conventional praises of his companion, rung 
a little false, now gave out a sincere tone. 

“We do not wish to go inside; palanquins and at- 
tendants are waiting, we have come for the girl,” 
said Krishna Rao, in a harsh, insistent tone. 

Miss Ray looked in the direction indicated and saw 
under the trees across the road two palanquins, about 
which a number of uniformed men squatted. 

“ Please do me the favour to be seated in the 
veranda, that we may talk about it.” 

“Very good; your honour’s pleasure,” the barris- 
ter replied, taking one of the country-made chairs. 

Miss Ray’s dignified bearing and courteous manner 
conquered the Rajput, and following Ganga Prasad’s 
example, he also sat down, saying as he did so : — 

“ Speaking words. Miss Sahib, is vain. Give us 
the girl and let us go.” 

“ Doing kindness, will you please tell me of whom 
you speak?” 

Krishna Rao’s eyes flashed, and he began an angry 
reply when the barrister, signing to him to let him 
answer, said: — 

“ The honoured bahadur speaks of Sita, the wife 


In the Name of the Tahsildar 173 

of his younger brother, Ram Chandra. We have 
come in the name of Narian, the tahsildar/' 

The missionary sat silent, looking apparently at the 
green grass and the trees on the compound. Then 
she asked, Is it according to caste laws for a Hindu 
to marry a Christian girl ? 

‘‘ She will not remain a Christian long in the 
tahsildar's house. She was ^ Hindu when Ram 
Chandra married her, and she can return again to 
her caste. It will cost many rupees, but it can be 
done, and it shall be done.’' A cruel, determined look 
about the man’s mouth and in the smouldering eyes 
made him more repulsive than before and his soiled 
turban, upon which his well oiled hair had left dark 
streaks, added to the effect. 

** But Sita does not wish to become a Hindu again; 
she no longer worships images.” 

‘‘We understand that she has learned a new re- 
ligion, but she will soon forget it. Women know 
nothing about religion anyway. Their religion is to 
obey their husbands and to worship * them. Women 
are fools.” 

Miss Ray looked steadily at the speaker while his 
companion by a gesture deprecated his rudeness of 
speech. 

“ We mean our women,” Krishna Rao muttered 
confusedly; “the women of this country.” 

“ Surely you are wrong in your estimate of India’s 
women. Do you know Pandita Rambibai and Dr. 
Chose and Puniyabai, the barrister ? ” 

♦ Some Hindu wives literally worship their husbands with set 
ceremonies. 


174 


The Trial 


We do not know them/’ 

‘'Their great and notable fame has come to our 
ears,” said Ganga Prasad. “ The learned and illus- 
trious pandita’s schools for girls have received recog- 
nition from many famous men in high and honourable 
positions.” 

“ I am glad to hear her praises, Mr. Prasad. She 
is well known in England and America and is highly 
esteemed for her learning, as well as for what she has 
done for her countrywomen. The illiteracy of Hindu 
women is due not to their incapacity but to their lack 
of opportunity.” 

While she talked. Miss Ray’s attention was di- 
rected, in part, to a crowd of children who were pour- 
ing out of the orphanage ground, by the gate near the 
end of the veranda. When she turned again to her vis- 
itors, she observed that they too were looking intently 
at the girls as they formed into line, and seemed an- 
noyed by the limited view afforded them. For the 
bougainvillea and cisquailia, with their luxuriant 
rainy season’s growth, had climbed over the end of the 
veranda, and had spread until it was evident by the 
reaching out of their most ambitious tendrils, that 
they meant soon to join forces to form a solid screen. 

“ We do not approve of learning in women,” 
Krishna Rao said with a frown. 

“ Then you would not approve of Sita. We keep 
all of the children under our care in school.” 

While she was explaining, two or three little ones, 
evidently tardy, came running through the gate, 
laughing and breathless, to join the array of orphan- 


In the Name of the Tahsildar 175 

age girls, all wearing red saris and happy faces, and 
a moment later three pupil teachers in white took 
their places at the side of the column which had now 
moved into full view. The barrister gave an appreci- 
ative look at the inviting picture, with its background 
of rich green grass and stole sidelong glances at the 
older girls. But Krishna Rao, careless of Indian eti- 
quette, which demands that men shall not look upon 
the faces of women, stared hard. 

The latter, when Miss Ray finished speaking of 
Sita's education, answered, “ She will forget it all 
when she has no books to read. Let me see my 
brother’s wife.” 

I do not consider the girl your brother’s wife, 
Krishna Rao-ji, and you cannot see her for she is not 
here.” 

“ Do not feed me deceit, Miss Sahib.” 

She is not here.” 

We will see,” the Rajput replied with assurance, 
rising and looking toward the girls. ‘‘ We will see — 
if — if you will give the order.” The last words he 
added, hesitatingly, upon seeing Miss Ray’s look of 
indignant denial, and the barrister’s gesture of warn- 
ing. 

“ It is not our custom to keep our girls hidden be- 
hind a pardah [curtain] as you do, but they never 
speak to strangers; and no gentleman, — of my ac- 
quaintance, — would attempt to speak to them. Pray 
be seated.” 

“ Very right and proper,” assented the barrister. 
“ I am very sure my honoured client meant neither 


The Trial 


176 

harm nor offence. He is only and simply ignorant of, 
and unacquainted with the foreign and strange, though 
doubtless commendable, customs.” 

“If she is not pardah why may I not see her?” 
persisted Krishna Rao, sitting down discomfited. 

“ I have told you that she is not here.” As Miss 
Ray spoke she looked straight at the questioner. 

“Then where is she?” he inquired, evidently be- 
ginning to believe her. 

“ Doing favour, Miss Sahib- ji, please tell us the 
whereabouts of the girl,” said Ganga Prasad. 

“Doing favour, barrister-ji, please withdraw your 
question.” 

“You decline to answer?” 

“ I decline to answer.” The words came slowly 
after a pause. 

“ Miss Sahib,” came the wrathful rejoinder from 
the Rajput, “ you have put us off for two years, and 
we will not wait longer. Are! She is now of fifteen 
years, a woman grown for a bride! Unheard of! 
Wah ! She will soon be an old woman.” 

Miss Ray remaining silent, Ganga Prasad said: 
“ We shall be sorry. Miss Sahib, exceedingly sorry 
and distressed to trouble and harass you, but it will 
fall to us to appeal to the Government unless you will 
give up and surrender the girl; so says the tahsildar” 

“ Unless you will give up the girl,” repeated 
Krishna Rao threateningly. 

“ That I cannot do. She has said that she does 
not wish to be Ram Chandra’s wife. Still, I will write 
her and allow her to make the decision for herself.” 


In the Name of the Tahsildar 177 

Make the decision for herself ! What, have a 

girl’s fool wishes to do with her marriage? ” 

“ Miss Ray,” began the barrister, “ her very wise 
father arranged this marriage with the tahsildar many 
years ago and there is nothing for her to do but sub- 
mit. You are kind, most kind to offer to write to 
her, but I fear, — please pardon me, — I fear that your 
writing would be vain and useless, so far as our inter- 
ests are concerned. Doing kindness, allow the haha- 
dur, the tahsildar' s son himself. Ram Chandra, to 
write a letter to his wife.” 

Had the men been observing Miss Ray, they would 
have noticed a momentary gleam of hope in her face, 
but their eyes were upon the girls now moving off. 

“If it is Ram Chandra’s wish to write to Sita I 
have no objections. Christian girls are not married 
without their consent.” 

“ Very good,” continued the barrister. “ To what 
address shall the hahadur send his letter ? ” 

“ Here in my care. I will forward the letter.” 

“ That is too hard, you feed us deception,” said 
Krishna Rao, his eager look giving way to one of 
baffled resentment. 

“ No; I will forward the letter or letters if he 
wishes to write more than one.” 

“ And the answer ? ” 

“ The answer when it comes, I will forward.” 

“ Very good,” replied the barrister. 

Then Miss Ray, judging from their silence that 
they had nothing further to say, gave them permis- 
sion to go. 


The Trial 


178 

Salaam, Miss Sahib-ji,” said Ganga Prasad, 
while his companion sullenly muttered Salaam,^’ and 
the gentlemen took their departure. 

As soon as they had left the house. Miss Ray called 
for her tonga, and while she waited its coming, stood 
looking after them with a troubled, thoughtful face. 
She saw, as the vehicle drove up, that they had stopped 
where the ways divided and were apparently debating 
which road to take. The white figure of the barrister 
stood in the one leading to the bazaar, while the crim- 
son turban and yellow cumberbund [sash] showed that 
Krishna Rao had started on the other, the road the 
girls had taken. 

The teacher at once stepped into the tonga, at the 
same time giving the order to drive fast. 

Krishna Rao looked at the approaching tonga and 
again at the girls who were now close to the school- 
house, then walked with his companion toward the 
bazaar. The face of the tahsildafs son as he turned 
toward Miss Ray was overspread with a threatening 
scowl. 


II 


RAM CHANDRA 

I T was perhaps a month after the occurrence of 
the incident related in the last chapter that, in 
the City of Calcutta, a distinguished Hindu 
gentleman was giving a series of lectures on social 
reform. The reputation of the speaker commanded 
a hearing from literate Calcutta, not indeed from the 
ultra conservatives, but from moderate conservatives 
as well as outspoken progressives. The student-body 
from colleges and from the great university were well 
represented. 

The audience consisted, as a rule, of men, but to one 
of the lectures on the education of girls, the speaker 
gave a special invitation to women, and a number of 
Europeans and natives responded. For the conven- 
ience of pardah women a portion of the balcony, ap- 
proached by a side stairway, was reserved and 
screened. 

Among those who availed themselves of the oppor- 
tunity of hearing the reformer, was the Pandita Kam- 
liabai with eighteen or twenty of her girls. Among 
them was Sita. The group sat in the balcony, but 
without screen or veils. After the lecture, Kamliabai 
tarried with her girls until the audience had dispersed. 
As they were going down the stairs, however, they 
179 


i8o 


The Trial 


heard the voice of the speaker, then saw that he stood 
on the opposite steps and that the entrance hall was 
packed with students. Evidently he was answering 
questions. 

I have not claimed,” he said, that it is a simple 
problem that confronts us. It means the breaking 
away from traditions and customs of thousands of 
years. It means breaking away from the authority of 
the elders — our mothers and fathers, and their 
mothers and fathers. It means that we shall not 
remain all our lives children, but that we shall be men. 
It means instead of the peace and quiet that Hindus 
love, struggle — war with our nearest and dearest. 
But it means, hear me, you college men, you fresh 
young souls athirst for truth, — it means the elevation 
of our women, and consequently a New India, a Great 
India, which shall take her place with the proudest 
nations of the earth.” 

Will educated wives be content to serve their hus- 
bands as their masters ? ” questioned one of the crowd. 

“ No, no,” answered another, “ our homes will be 
destroyed.” 

Nay, nay, let them alone. Women are fools,” 
cried another in angry protest. 

At the voice and the words Sita started as 
though struck. For an instant she gazed at the 
crowd, then pale and agitated sat down upon 
the steps behind two of the teachers who stood 
in front. 

“ What is it ? ” asked the pandita, stooping over 
her. 


Ram Chandra i8i 

His voice/’ she whispered. “ His voice and his 
words, — ^the words of his letter.” 

‘‘ What words ? ” 

“ Women are fools.” 

“ Wah ! That is the common sentiment. Did you 
see him ? ” 

‘‘ I am not sure.” 

‘‘ It is not probable, — but ” 

The lecturer was again talking, and talking of ideal 
womanhood. The pandita’s party remained in the 
stairway until the hall was wholly empty. 

Sita, held by the words of the speaker, moved with 
the others, subconsciously, but when she reached the 
door again the arresting angry voice smote upon her 
ear and involuntarily she paused upon the threshold. 
She had at first heard only the voice, but now came 
the reply close at hand and a rejoinder. The words 
she did not sense until afterwards. 

Wah ! It is the custom for foreign women to 
go unveiled and our Christianized women, too. See, 
here’s a crowd of them.” 

“ I say decent women will always veil their faces. 

Our mothers ” It was the first voice again. It 

stopped abruptly. 

The full play of the electric lights from within and 
without the entrance fell full upon the girl in the 
doorway, upon her tall, graceful figure arrayed in 
snowy drapery, upon the beautiful rapt face still 
alight with highest aspirations. 

“ Sita,” called one of the girls in a loud whisper. 
‘‘ Sita, go on.” 


The Trial 


182 

She recovered herself in an instant and hastened 
on, but as she went she heard the voice repeat, in a 
dazed way, “ Sita.’' She heard, too, the laughing re- 
joinder, “ One would think from your amazement 
that it was the Goddess Sita, herself/’ 

I know some one — a girl named Sita — come.” 

‘‘ He is coming,” whispered Sita, clutching Kamlia- 
bai’s arm, “ and he can take me.” 

He shall not.” The pandita spoke to a teacher 
in the group, then to Sita and her Mohani, and when 
the little company had passed into an unlighted street, 
drew the two girls with her into an alley. 

The crowd moved on and the three in the alley, 
after going a short distance, waited. Soon they heard 
the young men talking, then in the dim light saw the 
faint outlines of their white draperies. 

“Wah! Ram Chandra! What’s the rush? Give 
us a light, I say I Well, if you’ve got to find her, I’ll 
go along, but it’s queer. I’m converted. It’s better 
for women to keep their faces veiled, especially the 
goddess sort.” 

Chup, you babbler.” 

Bear.” 

Sita, when the young men stopped, shivered, and, 
now as their retreating footsteps ceased to sound, 
drew a long breath. 

Chup” whispered Kamliabai, as Mohani began to 
ask questions. “ Change saris” 

Five minutes after the young men had passed three 
veiled [pardah'] women emerged from the mouth of 
the alley and moved slowly up the street. 


Ram Chandra 


183 

‘‘If we miss this car we shall have to wait a half 
hour for another and there is no gari [cab] near. 
Gulab’s father should have met us.” This Kamliabai 
said aloud in the rude speech of uneducated women. 
In a whisper she added, “ Stoop, Sita; don’t forget. 
Your figure alone will give you away. That is right. 
Keep so, mother of Gulab.” 

They now heard the sound of an approaching elec- 
tric car, and a moment after, upon turning a corner, 
saw a block ahead, under a dim gas light, two young 
men, and on the corner opposite, the college group. 
Drawing their saris farther over their faces they ad- 
vanced slowly until the car stopped. 

“ She is not here,” Sita heard Ram Chandra say. 
Then she felt that he was looking at her group. Put- 
ting confidence in her red sari which covered her from 
head to foot, she advanced. 

“ Careful, don’t fall, mother of Gulab,” cautioned 
Kamliabai, and Sita remembered to stoop as with 
stumbling feet she took a seat in the back of the 
car. 

'' Pardah!'* muttered the young man in the street 
corner. 

“ Lost ! ” cried Bali. 

But Ram Chandra changed his mind at the last 
moment, and swinging himself onto the moving car 
sat down directly in front of Sita. His companion, 
who was inclined towards stoutness, followed, and 
when he had recovered his breath, began : — 

“ Wah, what next, moonstruck? You’re 

Bus. Chup. [Enough. Hush !] ” 


The Trial 


184 

Bali then, following Ram Chandra’s example, 
studied the faces of the college girls. 

‘‘ The goddess is not here — ^let’s get off,” he sug- 
gested presently. 

‘‘ Get off, pest. Another word and I’ll pitch you 
off.” 

Bear.” 

To the veiled women the young men had given only 
a glance but one of the teachers from the college group 
looked toward them questioningly and Kamliabai 
presently arose, rearranged her sari and said : — 

I hope, mother of Gulab, that your brother will 
meet us, but if not it is only a block or two to walk.” 

The young men gave no heed and so failed to see 
the signal given by the pandita. The teacher in 
authority had seen, however, and sometime before 
reaching the college, left the car with her charges. 

While they were getting off the young men still 
watched and when one of the girls called to another 
Sita, Ram Chandra rose, then fell back in his seat, 
when a plain, awkward girl responded to the name. 

'' Hdi! Hail the light must have transfigured her. 
It is maya [illusion]. 

“ Owl.” 

The Rajput now sat in gloomy silence while the 
car sped on. 

They had gone two blocks past the college before 
Kamliabai gave the signal to stop. 

“ Come,” she said, “ Careful, mother of Gulab. So 
your brother has not come, but it is only a little way. 
Come.” 


Ram Chandra 185 

The young men too, alighted, but apparently with- 
out reason. 

She could not have sunk into the earth,” Sita 
heard Ram Chandra mutter. 

“ That is exactly what she would do — if it’s the God- 
dess Sita.” 

“ Owl, — you .” 

Kamliabai started off at an all too leisurely pace to 
suit the anxious girl, and standing erect she drew the 
pandita along. 

“ They are coming,” she whispered. They are 
following us.” 

Stand still, stoop,” whispered Kamliabai. Mother 
of Gulab,” she continued aloud, coming to a dead 
halt, “ I want to show you this famous house. It 
belongs to a friend of ours.” She went on talking to 
the girls in front of the house until the young men 
had crossed the street. The pardah women then 
started on, but, though they moved more slowly than 
before, there came to them in the still night air, from 
the opposite side of the street, the sound of leisurely 
footsteps; so very leisurely were they that they made 
sharp suggestion that their pace was gauged by their 
own. 

‘‘ They must want to learn where we live,” said 
Kamliabai, presently. ‘‘ Well, let them.” 

Past squalid huts and palatial residences they went, 
while the soft night gave out from the gardens of the 
latter the scents from the tropical fruits and flowers, 
and trees and shrubs arose above the walls of the com- 
pounds. 


The Trial 


1 86 

Pausing before one of these residences, the pandita 
said aloud, ‘‘ Here we are at last.” She led the way 
up the driveway, then quickly on to the far side of the 
house and stopped among the shrubbery. 

‘‘ It is Mr. Chatter ji’s house,” whispered Sita. 

Yes, but we will not trouble him unless necessary. 

Chup/' 

The girl breathed easier. For the Hon. Mohan 
Chatter ji was not only a barrister of renown and a 
member of the viceroy’s council, but her own legal 
adviser, retained when Miss Ray had written of 
Krishna Rao’s threats. Then she listened with strain- 
ing ears to rapidly approaching footsteps; and when 
they stopped at the gate, her heart almost ceased to 
beat. How long the stillness lasted she did not know; 
but after a time it was interrupted by the sound of low 
voices, one of which, she fancied, was that of Ram 
Chandra. A moment later there came again the sound 
of footsteps — receding this time. And when, soon 
after, the pandita cautiously approached the gateway 
and looked out, the street was clear; and unmolested, 
she conducted the girls to their college home. 


Ill 


DECISION 

S ITA had now been more than eight months in 
Calcutta. 

Until her completion of the high school course 
she had been more than content with her life in Aram- 
pur; yet at the time of the pandita’s visit she had set 
her heart upon going to college. Later, Mohani be- 
came possessed with a like desire and, coached by 
Sita, was enabled by taking some extra work the first 
year in the preparatory department, to enter college 
with her friend. Miss Ray encouraged the girls 
and arranged with Kamliabai for their maintenance. 

In all Calcutta they knew only the pandita and were 
a help to each other while fitting themselves to 
their new and very different environment. Sita, as she 
became acquainted with the college students, met with 
keen disappointment ; for she had anticipated a school 
made up of Kamliabais. Some, indeed, who had 
drifted into the college, seemed quite indifferent to 
their privileges. 

As among birds which have been long kept in cap- 
tivity, some, if suddenly set free, return again to the 
cage which has meant to them home, while others try 
their wings, then, almost bursting their throats as they 
warble their joy, soar away into the upper air; so 
187 


The Trial 


among women who have been for centuries sup- 
pressed, some, when their shackles are loosened and 
their weights are removed, are so stultified that they 
are incapable of appreciating their newly- found 
liberty, whilst others mount into the higher realm with 
the exultant joy of the freed birds. 

Of the former class Sita had no understanding. 
She consorted with the free spirits, and, her soul 
athirst for the higher learning so long denied her 
countrywomen, threw herself with all her strength 
into the new life. 

The new life comprised much that was beyond the 
college walls. The pandita numbered among her 
friends both Christian and non-Christian reformers 
and some of these the college girls were privileged to 
hear from the platform or to meet socially. Among 
these was the Honourable Mohan Chatter ji, into 
whose compound she had guided Sita the night of 
the lecture, in order to escape the pursuit of Ram 
Chandra. Mr. Chatter ji was a reformer and a 
Christian and it was because of his word of 
warning that the girl had fled before her affianced 
husband. 

Miss Ray, when apprized of the young man’s pres- 
ence in Calcutta, hastened at once to the city and a 
consultation was arranged for the afternoon follow- 
ing her arrival. 

Mr. Chatter ji was accompanied by his wife, to the 
college, of which institution both were patrons; and, 
that they might see something of its working, they 
came before the time appointed and after a colloquy 


Decision 189 

with Miss Ray went with her to visit Sita’s class in 
Sanscrit. 

It so happened that in the lesson was a passage 
which for ages had been so interpreted as to sanction 
the low estate to which modern Hinduism has 
assigned women. To this section the pandita had 
given a new interpretation, and as she construed the 
passage and expounded its meaning, she was at her 
best. In the course of the recitation she directed 
attention to the author and called upon the class for 
other quotations attributed to the same rishi [sage]. 
Several of the girls responded, Sita with one which 
paid high tribute to women. When they could recall 
no more the teacher herself filled out the number, then 
bringing them all together demonstrated that, with 
one exception, an evident interpolation, none of these 
passages inveighed against women or held them in 
contempt; and that the old rendering of the section 
under discussion was opposed to the spirit of the other 
passages, while the new brought all into harmony. 

Mr. Chatterji, being asked his opinion, approved 
the pandita’s interpretation, and stated that several 
Sanscrit scholars had of late allowed that her render- 
ing was permissible. Perhaps/’ he added with a 
smile, ‘‘ perhaps you can explain away all the passages 
derogatory to women — all in the Shastras ? ” 

“Alas! no,” the pandita replied, and again she 
asked the girls for quotations of the other sort, this 
time from different rishis. 

Up to this point Sita’s bright face had shown delight 
in the recitation, but when she recited a short dis- 


190 


The Trial 


paraging passage it was with an indignant frown, and 
with a voice that trembled. 

The entire student body now gathered in the chapel 
where Miss Ray gave a brief address on Frances E. 
Willard, and Mr. Chatter ji followed with one on The 
Pardah System. 

Mr. Chatter ji was of Brahman birth, and fair. He 
was of light build and average height, but his large 
head, strong chin, and keen eye, together with the 
marked dignity of his bearing, made him appear to 
excellent advantage on the platform. On this occa- 
sion he grew eloquent in his denunciation of the par- 
dah system. Deploring its results he contrasted the 
pallid, stunted, and unenlightened shut-ins ” with the 
free, educated women, and concluded with a eulogy 
upon the teachers of girls whom he named the most 
potent factors in India’s social regeneration. 

Sita’s face still reflected her spirit’s uplift when, 
after the speaking, she and Mohani went out with 
Kamliabai and her guests into the walled compound. 

The pandita was at once called away, and, abandon- 
ing the seats under the magnolias, the girls led the 
visitors about among the shrubs and flowers. The 
walk was the more pleasant because, while the fresh- 
ness of the season was everywhere manifest, a two 
days’ intermission in the rains had removed its wet- 
ness. Sita and Mohani took special pleasure in show- 
ing the college flower garden, a new feature in the 
institution, which they had introduced. Miss Ray ap- 
proved with glad smiles; Mr. Chatter ji, too, com- 
mended the idea of gardening for girls; while Mrs. 


Decision 


191 

Chatter ji enjoyed the result, the blooming flower 
beds. 

‘‘ Now,’’ said Sita, you must see the orchids ! 
They are the best of all ! ” 

She pointed out plant after plant in the tiny con- 
servatory, and last of all showed hanging in one 
corner, a rare orchid of her own which she had ob- 
tained through a gardener in the Botanical Gardens. 
Forgetful of the guests she stood for a brief period, 
rapt, before its delicate indescribable beauty. 

“ That one,” she then said, drawing a long breath 
as with eyes shining she turned from it, “ that 
one must have dropped down from the ‘ fields of 
light.’ ” 

When they left the orchid house, Mrs. Chatter ji 
asked to see the crotons and Mohani went with her. 
Sita presently became separated from the others and 
soon after she heard Mr. Chatter ji’s voice beyond 
a hibiscus hedge. 

“ No, Miss Ray,” he was saying, “ that would 
not be advisable. You might, of course, send her 
to America, but if the government should demand her 
at your hands, you would have to produce her, even 
from the most distant part of the world.” 

“ Or go myself to prison. Mr. Chatter ji, I mean 
to be law-abiding; resistance to the law of the land is 
not justifiable except when such law controverts a 
higher law. You have read about the slavery days in 
America and the excitement before the war over run- 
away slaves, — how, though against the law, some 
white people helped them on their way to Canada? 


192 


The Trial 


Well, my mother’s family are descendants of the Pil- 
grim Fathers, and my mother’s father was a conductor 
on this underground railway. If my people were will- 
ing to suffer imprisonment for the sake of the negro, 
can I do less to save my high-minded, pure-hearted 
little girl from a worse slavery? ” 

“ Slavery, Miss Ray ? ” 

“ Slavery, Mr. Chatter ji, no less. Let the law take 
its course. Defend the girl with all your skill, but if 
you fail, — I shall be ready to pay the price of her free- 
dom.” 

‘‘ I honor you. Miss Ray, but ” 

Arrested by the impassioned words, Sita to this 
point had stood spellbound, then partially recovering 
herself, she hurriedly sought the privacy afforded by 
a mass of tall shrubbery. 

When, a little later, she joined the company, they 
had gathered under the magnolias around a tea table 
from which Kamliabai was preparing to serve milk, 
tea, and biscuits. After a little chit-chat, during which 
Sita sat watching Miss Ray’s face, the conversation 
turned upon “ Young India,^’ and the girl listened 
while Mr. Chatter ji and the pandita talked of the 
future of the country. Presently, following the with- 
drawal of Mrs. Chatter ji and Mohani, the barrister 
remarked : — 

By the way, who knows but this young man. Ram 
Chandra, may belong to the Young India type? It 
is quite possible since he is a student of the univer- 
sity.” 

“ A student of Calcutta University? ” 


Decision 


193 

‘‘ Yes, Miss Ray. Had you not heard ? I learn 
that he is in the Junior class.” 

“ Astonishing ! ” 

“ I fancy,” said the pandita, with a decided shake 
of the head, “ I fancy that Ram Chandra is one of 
the many university students whose minds do not as- 
similate modern ideas.” 

When Mr. Chatterji made his suggestion he had his 
eyes upon Sita, and he now waited for her to speak. 

“ Barrister-ji,” she answered, “ he does not belong 
to ‘ Young India.’ After listening that night to that 
wonderful appeal for the elevation of women, while 
others of the students out in the entrance hall were 
eagerly questioning and drinking in the replies of the 
speaker, he, the tahsildar's son, bawled out, ‘ Women 
are fools ’ ! ” 

‘‘ His brother said the same to me,” commented 
Miss Ray, “ The family must be anything but pro- 
gressive.” 

“True! That sentiment is strictly orthodox,” 
assented the pandita drily. 

“ It was that,” Sita went on, “ that called my atten- 
tion to him. He had written it to me in his last 
letter.” 

“ It is a common expression,” commented Mr. Chat- 
terji. “ By the way, Sitabai, I have not yet seen Ram 
Chandra’s last letter.” 

The girl removed the letter from a small book she 
was carrying, and opening it at the barrister’s request, 
read aloud. While she read, her restrained feelings 
were evidenced in the modulation of her voice; and. 


194 


The Trial 


too, the cause of her emotion in the classroom was 
made manifest; for the letter contained the passage 
she had quoted from the sacred books : — 

“ A faithful wife who wishes to attain the heaven of her lord. 

Must serve him here as though he were a god, 

And ne’er do aught to vex him, whatsoever be his state, 

Even though devoid of every virtue.” 

Orthodox, again ! ” said the pandita. 

“ Until the other night, Sitabai,’' questioned Mr. 
Chatter ji, ‘‘ you had not seen your — ^the young man 
for a long time, I think ? ” 

For six years, — six years and more.’’ 

‘‘ How did he appear? ” 

“ He is like his brother. My father thought he 
would be different.” 

‘‘And what is his brother like?” 

“ A beast of a man! ” replied Miss Ray as the girl 
hesitated. 

“ My mother taught me,” she then said with a dis- 
turbed expression, “ that I must never speak of any- 
thing discreditable to my — to the tahsildar's family. 

“Of course, if the marriage is to hold; but if not, 
the more your counsel knows of the tahsildar's family 
the better he can defend your interests.” 

After Kamliabai and Miss Ray had given their ap- 
proval, Sita went on : — 

“ Krishna Rao has a violent temper. He used to 
beat his little wife dreadfully and once he broke her 
collar bone and they had to call in a surgeon to set 
it.” 


Decision 


195 

‘‘ They do not always call in a surgeon in such 
cases/' commented Kabliabai. 

“Is there no redress for the wife?" asked Miss 
Ray, with horrified face. 

“ The husband might be punished/’ said the barris- 
ter, “ if the wife would complain." 

“ But," explained Kamliabai, “ if she complains she 
is ruined. Her father, even, would not receive back 
a daughter who had so disgraced him. Practically 
an orthodox Hindu wife has no redress against ill 
treatment." 

“We will hope," Mr. Chatterji said, “that Ram 
Chandra will not be like his brother." 

“ I,” exclaimed Sita, her eyes flashing as she drew 
herself up to her full height, “ I would take a beating 
from no man ! " 

“ We will hope," said Mr. Chatterji, “ that they 

will drop the suit ! But " A look of doubt came 

into his face as he looked at the beautiful girl, and 
he asked : — 

“ Honoured pandita, are you sure that he saw her 
that night? That he got a good look at her? " 

“ Sure. She stood in the doorway in a blaze of 
light." 

“ They have dallied so long that we might hope 
that they would give it up. But, — if he saw her, — 
What is your age, Sitabai ? " 

“ I am of sixteen years, barrister-ji, lacking two 
months." 

“ He will bring suit, and soon." 

The barrister now quietly stated the difficulties in 


The Trial 


196 

the case. “ The question is/’ he said in conclusion, 
has the girl the courage to fight against odds? ” then 
turning toward her he said: — 

‘‘ Sitabai, with an English judge, there is strong 
hope of your winning your case. But you must re- 
member that, while you have good friends, they can 
do no more than assist you. It is your trial. If 
the decision goes against you, there will then be no 
one to help you, you alone must bear the results. Ram 
Chandra will, I am convinced, bring suit; and if he 
wins will undoubtedly demand that you again become 
a Hindu. What will you do ? Take time to consider. 
Will you fight the case in the courts?” Sita rose, 
looked out at the compound a moment, then, with 
high purpose in her face, and without a tremor in 
her voice, turned to Mr. Chatter ji, and said: — 

I need no time to consider, barrister-ji ! One born 
into the Rajput [king or military] caste should not 
fear. And I cannot give up my religion. I will fight ! ” 


IV 


A MEETING 

M r. CHATTERJI had advised Miss Ray to 
consult with a local pleader upon the first 
intimation that the tahsildar would bring 
suit. But there was no first intimation. Two weeks 
after Sita’s encounter with Ram Chandra, — she had 
not seen him again, but had exchanged letters with 
him, — and close upon three months after his brother’s 
visit to Arampur, an order of the court was served 
upon her to appear before the Deputy Commissioner 
to show cause why she should not go to the home of 
her husband. Ram Chandra. Or rather the order was 
served upon Miss Ray with the command to produce 
the girl. The order was dated the tenth and the case 
was set for the sixteenth of November. 

The teacher wired Mr. Chatter ji and Kamliabai, and 
in reply received word that Sita would be sent at once 
with an attendant and that the barrister would fol- 
low. 

At the time appointed Miss Ray, accompanied by 
Parbatti and Amni, set out to meet Sita. Her train 
whistled while the tonga was yet an eighth of a mile 
from the station. This was due to the fact that one 
of the bullocks had, after trotting half the way, decided 
upon a rest before completing the journey, and it was 
197 


The Trial 


198 

quite a little time before the gariwan could convince 
him that it would be as well to defer that pleasure. 

Jaldi chalao [Cause to go quickly]/’ cried Miss 
Ray upon hearing the train. And the gariwan, utter- 
ing the inimitable Indian cluck from his vantage 
ground astride the tongue of the tonga, gave the near 
bullock a kick with his left foot, and at the same time 
the tail of the off one a twist with his right hand; then 
reversing the process he twisted the tail of the near 
bullock, and plied the off one with his bare foot. Con- 
tinuing the clucking, he laid on his whip, — a section 
of a bamboo pole with a bit of rope attached, — then 
with the bamboo part of it from which the usual nail 
had been removed, he prodded the bullocks; and the 
team, enlivened by these gentle hints, broke into a gal- 
lop which speedily brought the rocking tonga to the 
station entrance. 

Parbatti and Amni had but a moment to glance at 
the substantial stone building with its ivy not yet half- 
way up the walls, at the railway creeper on the fence 
of the enclosure, and at the station flower garden, 
which, stretching in narrow confines on the right hand 
side of the building, through its mingled fragrance of 
jasmine and roses, invited the eyes in its direction. 

“ It has come ! The rail-gari has come ! ” ex- 
claimed Amni, as they passed through the wide arched 
passage. 

“Here, coolies, come here; to us ten coolies are 
necessary,” now came a loud peremptory call. 

“ That is the Bara Sahib’s bearer, and that mem- 
sahib standing by the white first class carriage must 


199 


A Meeting 

be his wife/’ Miss Ray explained to the girls as they 
came in sight of the train. “ I will not stop to speak 
to her,” she went on, “ until we have found the girls.” 

They made their way slowly through the crowd to- 
ward the third-class carriage reserved for purdah 
[screened] women. 

“ Water, brother, give us water.” The voices came 
from the brown intermediate and third-class carriage. 
And a water-carrier, with his heavy brass water vessel, 
moved slowly from window to window filling lotas 
and sarais, and received in return one or two coppers 
from each buyer. 

Chapati! ” the bread peddler cried, while he went 
from carriage to carriage selling these cakes. 

‘‘ Sweetmeat man here,” ordered a Brahman whose 
caste rules forbade the eating of anything except 
candies while travelling. He bought pounds of the 
dainties for his little company, while passengers of 
every caste bought according to their ability, and the 
vender of sweets was kept busy until the train 
started. 

“ Where is my box ? I cannot find my box,” wailed 
a helpless old woman in bewilderment. 

“ What confusion ! ” Parbatti exclaimed as a 
child’s shrill scream rose above the divers noises. 

“ There she is. I see Sita ! ” cried Amni excitedly. 

Mohani too,” confirmed Parbatti, after a quick 
searching of the carriage windows. 

“ Softly, girls, we’ll reach them in a moment, now,” 
said Miss Ray. 

But at that instant a palanquin was carried past and 


200 The Trial 

set down between them and the door of the purdah 
compartment. 

Sita, watching at the window of this compartment, 
had seen her friends and had already alighted, and 
smiling and eager, stood with one hand on the carriage 
door. She had grown tall, they observed, and indeed 
none of the women on the station platform could 
match her in stature or in grace of carriage. Her sim- 
ple dark blue sari was worn with an air of distinction, 
and her dark hair peeping out from beneath the 
border of the sari made a pleasing background for her 
fair wheat-coloured complexion and large hazel eyes, 
alight with intelligence and affection. 

While they waited, the crowd upon the platform 
thickened; the coolies swarmed about the carriages, 
eager for a chance to earn a few pice; the departing 
passengers, although Indians, and lacking the sense 
of time, were now in haste, for although they knew 
that the iron “ devil-horse,” which drew the rail-gari, 
sometimes stopped to drink, they knew, too, that he 
was unlike their patient beasts and tarried not for the 
convenience of any. They, therefore, hurried with 
box or bundle to the train, most of them to the third- 
class carriages and with repressed excitement stood 
at the doors watching the arriving passengers as they 
made their way out. 

Sita at first had eyes for her friends only. But 
she could not reach them, and she presently noted 
among those who came to the second-class carriage 
adjoining the one by which she stood, a young man, 
the cut of whose long black satin coat and white 


A Meeting 201 

trousers, together with his red fez, announced him a 
Mohammedan. He did not enter the carriage, but 
having ordered a coolie to take care of his belongings 
walked slowly up and down the platform. Manifestly 
he did not share in the general excitement, and while 
the train tarried was seeking diversion. This he 
found, apparently, in the palanquin or the group about 
the palanquin, for at each turn he slackened his pace 
as he approached, and stared. Sita gave no thought 
to the traveller, for immediately her attention was 
given to a report that there was a very sick man on 
board. Then the station master ordered the people 
to go to the end of the platform beyond the arch 
and the word “ plague ” passed in a murmur through 
the crowd. There was instant obedience, and all 
watched breathlessly while a man with his face cov- 
ered was taken, moaning, from the last carriage, 
placed upon a cot, and borne away. 

It so happened that the zenana compartment was 
beyond the archway, and the people in its vicinity had 
no need to move. With her eyes Sita followed the 
cot-bearers until they passed into the archway. At 
that moment she caught sight of a man standing 
alone, close to the wall of the building. She did not 
allow her eyes to rest upon him and the only distinct 
impression that remained after her swift glance was 
that his gaze was directed toward her or to some one 
near her, and that it held intense anger. 

Drawing herself up proudly she looked again at 
the girls, and was startled to see that the crowd had 
pushed them a little way from Miss Ray, and that 


202 


The Trial 


the Mohammedan had drawn very near them. She 
gave warning with a glance and a movement of her 
hand and Amni turned upon him a wrathful face just 
as with jauntily cocked fez he opened his mouth to 
speak. The crowd giving way, she took her comrade’s 
arm and moved toward Miss Ray. The latter was 
looking toward them and her quiet call prevented 
the man from following them. 

The aged Brahman, who had been hindered by the 
throng from getting his charge into the train, now 
observed the young gentleman close to the palanquin, 
and with a curse ordered him away. 

Explaining that his presence in that quarter was 
due to the pressure of the crowd, the Mohammedan 
apologized. Yet there was an insincerity in his tone 
and a touch of insolence in his manner that made 
the Brahman grind his teeth. 

The offender, upon turning to withdraw, stopped 
short for an instant, an expression of surprise on his 
countenance as he looked across the platform, mutter- 
ing, ‘‘ His wife, perhaps.” 

Sita heard and observed that his glance was in the 
direction of the angry Hindu. But the latter was 
facing her and she would not look toward him. 

“ Perhaps it is his wife in the palanquin,” she 
thought. But if so why does he not come to her? ” 

Miss Ray now conducted Parbatti and Amni around 
the palanquin to Sita, and they chatted busily until 
the Brahman had the palanquin moved a little way 
from the door so that the passengers might alight. 
While Mohani and the attendant were getting off and 


203 


A Meeting 

looking after their luggage, there was a buzz of voices 
and the mission girls, seeking for the cause, at once 
discovered that the English lady, preceded by a uni- 
formed bearer and accompanied by an ayah and child, 
was passing. Miss Ray went to speak to the lady 
and Sita occupied herself in watching the foreign 
child. Looking about him he saw her and raising his 
hand to the side of his face made the military salute, 
and said, “ Salaam, bibi [lady].” 

“ Salaam, baba/' she replied, her fine face lighting up. 

She was still looking after the child and the ladies 
as they went toward the passage-way, when the Mo- 
hammedan, who had until now kept out of sight, 
walked slowly by, saying softly as he passed her, 
“ Will the lotus-eyed deign me a smile? ” 

Sita now recognized in the young man Abdul Khan, 
the young man with whom her betrothed had quar- 
relled six years before. 

Not replying or changing her position she looked 
intently beyond the man, but there was an indescrib- 
able stiffening of her body and a subtle change in the 
expression of her face. The light had left her eyes and 
her lips which had been curved in a slight smile, were 
still curved, yet they now expressed not pleasure but 
scorn. 

His vanity, however, evidently suggested to the 
man that she might not have heard, and so, after pass- 
ing her, he came back and bowing low, said '' Salaam, 
beautiful one.” 

As Sita turned her back upon the Mohammedan 
she saw close at hand, standing by a door of the next 


204 


The Trial 


carriage, the angry Hindu, his hands now clinched 
and his eyes blazing. This time he caught her eyes 
and she felt that his wrath was against her. She 
paused only an instant, but in that instant she noted 
his dress of spotless white, his lavender turban and 
sash embroidered in gold, and recognized in the wearer 
Ram Chandra. 

“ Come, ayah,'' she said in clear incisive tones to 
her attendant who was coming out of the carriage. 
“ We must get away at once. This place is infested 
with slimy reptiles and savage beasts.” 

Miss Ray quickly joined the girls, her face pale and 
indignant, showing that she had seen the salaam. A 
woman from the inside had also seen through the 
shutters for a low laugh from the zenana compart- 
ment followed Sita’s words. 

The Brahman who now had the screens quite ready 
for the transfer of the occupant of the palanquin, 
stopped to call the miscreant “ a son of swine,” and 
cursed the “ slimy reptile ” roundly. In his con- 
fusion as he hurried away Abdul Khan did not ob- 
serve the extended foot of the angry Hindu, and trip- 
ping over it fell sprawling to the ground. 

Again came a low laugh from the zenana carriage. 

And Miss Ray, glancing at the prostrate figure, 
said, “ It is a grievous thing to see one so high fall 
so low.” 

Up to this time the Mohammedan had so conducted 
his movements as to attract no general attention, but 
now, furious with anger, he arose and with his clothes 
covered with dust, advanced threateningly toward the 


A Meeting 205 

young Hindu while the Brahman smiled grimly, mut- 
tering, “ Let him tackle the Rajput.” 

The words reached the Mohammedan at the same 
time that the warning gong sounded, and he hesitated 
for the one reason or the other as he looked from the 
angry face to the athletic figure of the man who had 
offered no apology for his offence. 

The mission party, on their way to the arch, heard 
Ram Chandra say in a very low tone : — 

“ If you wish to miss your train, come on.” 

‘‘ Oh, if you are afraid ” 

‘‘ Take care ! We are of the Rajput caste and we 
have met before.” 

Remembrance is,” replied the traveller. Then, 
mounting the step he said, with furious anger, ‘‘ and 
there will be a reckoning time, sure — sure — sure.” 

“ Very good. Our name is Ram Chandra and we 
live in Raj Gaon. Inquire at the house of the tahsil- 
darr 

The mission party had paused as they entered the 
archway. ** It is the red fez,” whispered Amni. “ Is 
it true that the Rajput is your .” 

Sita, as she took her place in the tonga, gave a sign 
of warning, for, looking up, she saw standing on the 
steps of the station. Ram Chandra, and by his side an 
older man, clad in elegant costume, and bearing an im- 
pressive air of authority. The young man was scowl- 
ing while the older looked doubtful. 

Sita’s whole figure spoke unyielding resistance, as, 
when the tonga had started she replied, “ It is true; 
and the older man is his father, the tahsildar/' 


V 


BEFORE THE JUDGE 

M r. CHATTERjrS warning as to the doubt- 
ful result of the trial, Sita had not taken 
to heart. She did, indeed, make a conscien- 
tious effort to weigh his words; but she placed on the 
other side of the scales her friends, the pandita, the 
missionaries, the barrister, and the judge; then, un- 
consciously added the hopefulness of youth and the 
strength of her unconquered will. Heaven, she could 
not doubt, was on her side. Sita came to her trial, 
then, with full expectations of victory. 

When, therefore, on the morning after the girl’s 
return, Miss Ray informed her that Mr. Gracie had 
the week before gone home to Scotland on furlough, 
the news came with the force of a blow. From this 
she had begun to rally when from the veranda where 
they sat, she saw a tonga approaching, in which sat 
Mr. and Mrs. Ashley, and blue-eyed Pansy. After 
hasty greetings the conversation turned upon the new 
Deputy Commissioner. 

“ Have you seen him? ” asked Sita eagerly. 

“ I called upon him two days ago,” the gentleman 
made answer. 

“ Please tell me about him. Sahib- ji. Is he like 
Mr. Gracie ? ” 


206 


Before the Judge 207 

No, Mr. Frisbie is not like Mr. Grade; he is, 
in fact, a very different sort of man.” 

With manifest reluctance the missionary gave an 
account of his interview. The new Deputy Commis- 
sioner had announced himself a rationalist, and had 
stated that he was quite out of sympathy with mission 
work. 

‘‘ We have never before had an English official 
of his type,” said Miss Ray. How dreadful that 
he should come here, and just now.” 

“If Mr. Grade could have stayed ,” Sita began. 

“ What a pity,” added Mrs. Ashley, “ that Mr. 
Grade could not have remained until after the trial.” 

They were still talking when Pansy drew attention 
to a boy in uniform walking up the driveway. He 
proved to be a telegraph messenger, and though Sita 
had never received a telegram, she felt that this one 
concerned her. She waited expectantly therefore until 
Miss Ray, having torn it open, handed it to her with 
the request that she read it aloud. She read as fol- 
low: — 


“ Cannot come, 
case continued. 


Detained for two days. Have 
“ Mohan Chatterji.” 


Dazed by this last blow falling so soon after the 
others, Sita withdrew to the end of the veranda where 
she stood looking towards the trees, and trying to 
think. Presently she said aloud : — 

“ The judge has gone to England, the missionaries 


2o8 


The Trial 


are without influence with the new judge, the pandita 
is ill, and my barrister has other business! All my 
friends have failed me 1 All 1 ” 

‘‘ There is God left.” 

Pansy divining that her friend was in trouble had 
softly followed and now sought to comfort her. Sita 
turned toward the child, whose slender figure in 
dainty frock of white made a picture of rare loveli- 
ness. 

Lifting the fair face framed in yellow curls, Sita 
repeated, ‘‘ There is God left, heartsease,” and she 
drew the child to her side. 

When she returned to the missionaries, she found 
them earnestly planning for the trial now but two 
days off. 

At the appointed hour Miss Ray and Sita were in 
readiness at the kacheri [courthouse]. As, however, 
they expected the trial to be deferred, they remained 
in the tonga outside. 

Rather than wait for the calling of the case and 
leave the matter in the hands of the pleader, it 
had been decided that Mr. Ashley should himself 
see Mr. Frisbie and broach the subject of con- 
tinuance. 

The Deputy Commissioner’s tonga drove up just 
after the other, and Sita watched intently as he 
alighted, bowed to Miss Ray and, followed by Mr. 
Ashley, hurried inside. He wore an extra large topi 
which effectually concealed the greater part of his 
features. However, when on the veranda he removed 
his topi, Sita noted his thin lips, low forehead, his 


Before the Judge 209 

leathery complexion, yellowed by many years' resi- 
dence in malarial regions. 

Just before he reached the door he jerked out his 
watch and remarked in a high, rasping tone : — 

‘‘It is just time for court to open, but these slug- 
gish natives are forever late ! ” 

A moment later Mr. Frisbie looked out at a window 
close at hand, and the rasping tone went on: — 

“ A continuance of your case? Not ready? What? 
Mr. Chatterji of Calcutta? My word, but you mis- 
sionaries know how to spend money ! You had better 
get a barrister out from London ! ” 

For a moment there was an indistinct hum of voices, 
then Mr. Frisbie again looked out of the window. 

“ He is a Christian, you say, and a reformer ? I 
had forgotten. I am quite out of sympathy, don’t 
you know, with this fanatical scheme of foisting for- 
eign religion on these people. Their religion is better 
for them — vastly better.” 

Mr. Ashley’s reply was not audible, but the Deputy 
Commissioner turned again to the window as he re- 
joined : — 

“ Oh, I do not expect you to agree with me — of 
course not, you are a padre. But about this case. 
You can have it continued if you insist upon it, but 
you’ll gain nothing. Ah, here is a tonga and the 
laggard plaintiff, no doubt. My advice to you is to 
have it over at once and I can tell you that a dozen 
barristers would make no difference in my decision — 
not a whit ! ” 

The voice of the Deputy Commissioner grew 


210 


The Trial 


higher and more rasping. As he concluded a tonga 
containing the tahsildar, his younger son, and a 
Brahman priest drove past and around to another en- 
trance. The tonga was followed immediately by a 
palanquin carried by four men in crimson suits and 
yellow turbans. 

That is his mother’s palanquin, and — my 
mother ! ” exclaimed Sita, listening to a voice. She 
continued to look after the palanquin until the return 
of Mr. Ashley. 

“If Mr. Chatter ji were coming he should be here 
by this time,” he said. “ But there is nothing to be 
gained by delay. This is a queer sort of a judge and 
if we insist upon a continuance he will certainly be 
angered and prejudiced. We’d better take his advice 
and do the best we can with a pleader.” 

The girl, remembering the rasping voice and un- 
friendly words, reluctantly concurred in this judg- 
ment. 

Sita had so far met among foreign men philan- 
thropists only, and had subconsciously held on to the 
hope that the new Deputy Commissioner must be some- 
what like Mr. Gracie. Before she entered the court- 
room, however, this hope was fast ebbing; and before 
her pleader had spoken, even while Ram Chandra’s 
barrister was making his opening statement, when, 
for an instant, she met Mr. Frisbie’s gaze, she felt in 
it something so inimical to her well-being that she 
instinctively drew herself up as in preparation for 
defence. 

Mr. Frisbie made quick work of the case. He 


2II 


Before the Judge 

allowed the plaintiff’s barrister to call but half his wit- 
nesses, and to Miss Ray and Sita he listened with 
manifest impatience. 

‘'Do you acknowledge the marriage?” he asked 
of the latter, “ the marriage to which your mother and 
your priest have here borne witness ? ” And when 
she assented, he allowed her to say no more. 

“ That will do, — that is quite sufficient,” and with- 
out waiting for the attorneys’ final arguments he pro- 
ceeded with his summary. 

“ The tahsildafs son claims this woman Sita as 
his wife. She acknowledges the claim ” 

“ Oh no. Sahib- ji,” the girl interrupted, and apolo- 
gizing, she rose and stated with charming naivete, 
but with a quiver in her voice, that she had committed 
a fault in that she had not made herself clear; that she 
had meant to acknowledge only the betrothal ceremony. 
She then protested that she denied its binding force 
and repudiated the claim of the tahsildar's son. 

“ The plaintiff claims the defendant as his wife,” 
repeated Mr. Frisbie. “ She acknowledges the claim, 
— the marriage. It is enough. Her voluntary re- 
marks are entirely superfluous and irrelevant. Among 
Hindus the parents arrange marriages and the consent 
of the bride is neither required nor asked.” 

Through the open window from groups of litigants 
waiting outside there came a confused hum of conver- 
sation, and the magistrate stopped, annoyed, to order 
quiet. 

Upon this moment’s interim Sita seized to relieve 
her pent-up feelings. 


212 


The Trial 


‘‘ He is a Hindu, Miss Sahib-ji,” she said in a voice 
vibrant and tense from emotion as well as from the 
restraint she had put upon herself. The Sahib is 
a Hindu, and a thousand rebirths would not make 
him like Mr. Gracie ! ” 

Miss Ray, from the girl’s expressing her thought in 
the old terms of transmigration, understood the de- 
gree of excitement to which she had been wrought, 
and taking her hand in her own answered : — 

Truly they are millenniums apart, but, dear ” 

‘‘ He cannot understand, he cannot see ” 

So long and so grievously have men oppressed and 
degraded women that it is the rule among non-Chris- 
tian people , — a rule to which there are notable excep- 
tions, — and this is also true of the majority of the men 
of Christian nations, that they are so dead to the 
spiritual in women that they are, to certain wrongs 
of women, as unresponsive as a blind man to colour. 
And when such an one sits in judgment upon ques- 
tions of justice between man and woman, the result 
is a foregone conclusion; the woman is invariably sac- 
rificed. 

Sita was feeling something of this as she listened to 
the magistrate. It was familiar enough to her, the 
child marriage custom and all the rest. For among 
Hindus, women have no rights that men are bound 
to respect. However, this bald statement, the utter 
lack of courtesy, the heedlessness of her human rights 
by an English magistrate who stood for Christian 
government, — the hardness, the cruelty, the injustice 
of it all, came upon her with tremendous force. She 


213 


Before the Judge 

clung to Miss Ray’s hand, yet with every rasping 
word of the magistrate it seemed to her that the gov- 
ernment of India was using its invincible power to 
drag her away from light and righteousness and 
thrust her down, and down, into the depths of dark- 
ness and degradation. 

Mr. Frisbie was saying something about defrauding 
the plaintiff of his rights, when Sita, hearing the door 
open, turned toward it with instinctive impulse to- 
ward escape. 

It was Mr. Chatter ji just arrived on a belated train. 

The magistrate was already announcing his decision 
when the barrister arrived, yet, at sight of him, Sita’s 
hope instantly revived, and joy surging through her 
being, drove the blood again to her ashen face. She 
had known that in the event the suit was lost, an ap- 
peal was to be taken; but her pleader, having shown 
in conducting the case neither interest nor ability, and 
everything else having gone against her, she feared 
that through the inefficiency of this pleader or through 
some unknown power of the judge this design, too, 
might be frustrated. 

Throughout the trial the girl had persistently 
avoided looking in the direction of her betrothed, but 
now, when the Deputy Commissioner sat down, and 
Mr. Chatterji arose, she allowed herself to meet his 
gaze, and as her barrister announced the purpose of 
his client to take an appeal she observed Ram 
Chandra’s smile of triumph yield to an angry scowl. 

Sita, accompanied by Miss Ray, now hastened out- 
side to find her mother. 


214 


The Trial 


Tulsiabai had left the courtroom immediately after 
giving her testimony as to the legality of the marriage 
and was now just starting home. 

'' Palki walle [Palanquin bearers], wait,” Sita 
called, and quickly stepping to the curtained palan- 
quin she thrust a package inside, saying: — 

“ Honoured mother, dear mother, you surely are 
not going? ” 

‘‘ We must go,” interrupted a high voice inside 
which the girl recognized as that of her aunt. 

‘‘My daughter!” Tulsiabai replied, parting the 
curtains. 

Sita had but caught a glimpse of her mother’s sad 
face and seized her hand when a peremptory com- 
mand caused the palanquin bearers to start off at a 
brisk trot. It was the tahsildaPs son who gave the 
command from the courthouse door. 

While the girl was following Miss Ray to the 
tonga, she heard a bystander inquire who she was. 

“ That,” answered her pleader, “ is the Christian 
girl who flouts her Hindu husband.” 

“ There will be another trial,” remarked Ram 
Chandra. 

“ Then she will doubtless pay for her flouting,” said 
the pleader. “ Wah ! but she is handsome 1 Quite 
worth the trouble of fighting for.” 

'' C hup! Keep your eyes to yourself I ” cried Ram 
Chandra. 

Sita’s last glimpse of her betrothed as the tonga 
drove away showed his brow black and his eyes 
ablaze with anger. 


VI 


FLIGHT 

A S it was Mr. Chatter ji’s judgment that the ap- 
peal could be deferred for six months, Sita 
begged to renew her studies with the pandita 
and after holidays she went again to Calcutta. 

The girl’s confidence had been rudely shaken, yet 
though disillusionized as to the very high character 
she had before accorded to all foreign officials, and 
though sore and bruised because of the sufferings she 
had undergone, she did not therefore become bitter 
in spirit. 

‘‘ God had not allowed the unjust judge to prevail 
against her and she could never have such another; 
the next would be of the Grade type. In six months 
she would be older, of sixteen years and four months, 
and no orthodox Hindu ever married a girl of that 
age. Ram Chandra would not want her. But if he 
did, and if the court again went against her, there 
was another land to which she might flee. She would 
not allow Miss Ray to risk imprisonment for her. 
She would not even let her know of her purpose; but 
if the worst came to the worst, she would herself seek 
asylum in America.” 

Combating it with these and other arguments, Sita 
gradually overcame the depression left by the trial, 
215 


2i6 


The Trial 


and buoyed up by her youth and optimistic faith, she 
again looked with confidence into the veiled face of 
the future. 

Ram Chandra, so Sita’s friends ascertained, had 
after the trial gone back at once to the university. It 
was on this account that they had questioned the 
wisdom of her return to Calcutta. Yet while his 
presence was regarded in the light of a menace, its 
seriousness was greatly modified by the size of the 
city, the different circles in which they moved, the 
widely separated locations of the two institutions, and 
the evident fact that he had never discovered Sita’s 
connection with the college. And after a time her 
friends yielded to the girl’s strong desire. To reduce 
the risk to the lowest terms, Sita went out very little, 
and was now called by another of her names, Janki 
[Daughter of Janak]. 

For a time she was content with the compound and 
her out of door life there, but afterward she grew 
restless with longing for room and freedom and she 
continued to endure the restraint only because of her 
stronger desire for learning. 

Among the new students of this semester was a 
young woman who, in order that she might have the 
advantage of the pandita’s teaching in Sanscrit, had 
been placed in the college by a Calcutta mission- 
ary. Bhakti came from an orphanage and was 
fitting herself for a teacher in the girls’ college 
of the mission to which she belonged. To this 
gifted student both Sita and Mohani were strongly 
drawn. 


217 


Flight 

Because of the scarcity of zenana workers it had 
been arranged at the missionary’s request, that 
Bhakti, while in college, should be allowed to give one 
afternoon each week to zenana teaching. 

Sita, while in Arampur, had, with others of the 
girls, occasionally accompanied Mrs. Dale as she 
visited the pardah homes. She had helped with the 
singing and had received a share of the gratitude of 
the “ shut-ins ” — the ever grateful for a message from 
the outer world. Then too, hers was a pardah home 
and she knew the crying need. Without any definite 
resolve, Sita had meant, as a matter of course, to 
one day lend a hand in the impossible undertaking 
of carrying light to the many millions of India’s par- 
dah women. 

She therefore asked of Bhakti each week a report 
of her visits, and when one afternoon the superin- 
tendent of zenana work stopped with her at the col- 
lege in her return from zenana work, to call upon the 
pandita and upon Bhakti’s friends, Sita listened with 
earnest attention, while she gave an enthusiastic 
report of the progress and interest of some of the 
women under her care. 

The missionary grew sad when she spoke of the 
many homes asking for teachers, and when she stated 
that several calls had come from Hindi-speaking 
families, calls which she could not answer with her 
Bengali teachers, Sita exchanged glances with 
Mohani and said : — 

“ Then these calls are to me.” 

‘‘ And to me,” added Mohani 


2i8 


The Trial 


After some discussion it was arranged that they 
should go once a week with Bhakti and an experi- 
enced Bible woman in a closed cab. 

Sita taught in one Rajput and two Brahman fam- 
ilies. The Rajputs were in Calcutta only temporarily 
for the purpose of educating their sons. Two of 
these were attending the university, and Sita’s pupils 
were their wives; they were but little younger than 
their teacher, were somewhat advanced in their studies 
and eager to learn, and she thoroughly enjoyed the 
hour spent with them. 

When she learned that the young men of the 
household were university students, Sita was startled, 
and for a time was on the alert while at the house. 
But, with the exception of the father, who sometimes 
came into the zenana and listened to the young teacher 
or engaged her in conversation, she saw nothing of 
the men of the family. 

More than once, however, through the coarse, 
flimsy pardah [curtain] which served as a partition 
between the men’s and the women’s apartments, she 
heard a voice which struck her as familiar. This 
voice she did not succeed in placing for some months. 
One day when she was on the point of leaving, the 
aged grandmother entreated for more singing and she 
complied with the request. It was in the momentary 
silence that followed the song that she heard just 
beyond the pardah the low tones of two men in con- 
versation. 

A fine voice,” said the first. Do your people 
sing? ” 


Flight 219 

Wah! Of course not. It is a Christian girl who 
comes here to teach.” 

“ A Christian! Who is she? I must see her! ” 

“ Is it your goddess? Listen, she will sing again.” 

The women were asking for another song, but Sita 
had recognized the second voice, the one she had be- 
fore failed to place, as that of Bali, the companion of 
her betrothed on the night of the lecture, and the voice 
of the first as that of Ram Chandra himself; and, 
swiftly crossing the. room that her adieus might not 
be heard, she pleaded the lateness of the hour, and 
abruptly made her salaams. When outside she ran 
to the cab a block away, where she found the other 
girls and the Bible woman awaiting her. As they 
started, she drew the cab curtain a little aside and 
looked out. There were no young men in sight. 

After this incident Mohani visited the Rajput home 
in Sita’s stead. However, not only her pupils, but the 
older women as well, had become attached to the first 
teacher and they continued to make eager inquiry about 
her, and soon they sent an urgent invitation to her 
to come with Mohani to a dinner. 

Sita sent regrets and Bhakti took her place. Mo- 
hani had, so far, neither seen nor heard anything of 
the young men. But on the day of the dinner, which 
was served for the guests only, the girls sang several 
times at the request of the family, and twice in the 
intervals they heard beyond the pardah the smothered 
voices of men. They were somewhat disquieted by 
this evidence of listeners and not wholly unprepared 
when they left the house to find Ram Chandra and his 


220 


The Trial 


friend outside. Mohani recognized them and indicated 
to her companion their identity. 

When the young men had eagerly scanned the faces 
of the girls they turned toward each other in evident 
disappointment. Then Ram Chandra muttered some- 
thing and Bali politely inquired why his sister’s first 
teacher had not come. 

The girls gave no other reply than looks of indig- 
nant surprise. 

Ram Chandra again urged his friend and he spoke 
once more, hastily, the girls now being a little in ad- 
vance of him. 

“ I beg your pardon, honoured ladies, but you are 
not pardah like our women. Surely you will not 
take offence at my question. Has my sister’s teacher 
left the city?” 

“ It is true,” answered Bhakti as she stopped for 
an instant, “ it is quite true that it is not our custom 
to veil our faces. Neither is it our custom to talk 
with strange men. Kindly allow us to go with our 
friend.” 

The Bible woman now joined the girls and went 
with them to the cab close at hand. After another 
parley both young men approached the cab and Ram 
Chandra spoke to the elder woman. 

'' Bihi [lady],” he began, “will you do us the 
favour to tell us the whereabouts of the other 
teacher? the one who first taught in the house? ” 

“ Babu,” she replied, “ your request is most extraor- 
dinary. This is the first time our teachers have been 
molested. What is your interest in the party ? ” 


221 


Flight 

We should have explained/’ he replied, evidently 
perceiving his mistake, “ that there is a call for her 
to teach in another Rajput family, — in my uncle’s 
family.” 

“ Very well. What is your name? and what is the 
address of your uncle? I will give it to the zenana 
superintendent.” 

Ram Chandra looked confused and disappointed 
for an instant; then, ignoring the first request, an- 
nounced an address. 

Bali again apologized, and as the cab started, 
Mohani, who was familiar with his voice, heard him 
say to Ram Chandra: — 

Wah, man! She has vanished. Your goddess 
has vanished again.” 

At the report of this encounter, Sita was much dis- 
turbed. 

That call,” she said, “ I shall not answer. It is 
to his uncle’s house and his father’s, and the true ad- 
dress is Raj Gaon.” 

The address Ram Chandra had given proved to be 
that of a business house. 

Sita visited no more zenanas and Mohani and 
Bhakti ceased their work for a time, then went to 
a different part of the city. 

It was several weeks later that a renowned prelate, 
lately out from England, gave on Sunday afternoons 
a series of discourses- on a United Church for India. 
Because of the theme, Sita was the more desirous of 
hearing the famous preacher. Although the public was 
invited, the great church, not less than the smaller one 


222 


The Trial 


which she was accustomed to frequent, was presum- 
ably ground safe from intrusion on the part of her 
Hindu fianc^ and the pandita consented that she 
should attend these meetings. 

At the first of these the girl was watchful, but no 
Ram Chandra appeared and she lost her anxiety. 

On the third Sunday afternoon as the prelate was 
concluding his sermon, Sita subconsciously yielded to 
an impelling force that drew her eyes from the 
speaker, and turning her head she met the fixed gaze 
of her betrothed. Greatly startled she drew back 
behind the pillar against which, with this contingency 
in view, Kamliabai had stationed her. To the pandita, 
who was next her, she made known her discovery 
with a word, and to Bhakti and Mohani with a look. 
The four sat together in the college group near a side 
entrance, and the instant the audience rose, went out. 

At the door the girls drew their chaddars over their 
faces and hastened with the pandita to her carriage. 
She bade the other girls wait, and following Sita into 
the conveyance, gave the order to drive on. But at 
that moment a hansom dashed up in front of the car- 
riage completely blocking the way. 

Too late! ” said the pandita in a low tone, ‘‘ you 
may as well raise your veil.” 

The girl complied and, looking out of the carriage 
door which again stood open, saw Ram Chandra strid- 
ing toward the waiting hansom. 

‘‘ Oh, quick ! quick ! ” she exclaimed, again veiling 
her face though not in time to prevent recognition. 

Kamliabai, with a glance at the hansom, remarked 


Flight 223 

upon the fine horse, then began in a leisurely manner 
to talk to Bhakti and Mohani. 

‘‘ Just stand where you are,’’ she concluded in a 
clear distinct tone, ‘‘ and do not fear. Your friends 
will join you in a moment, and anyway no one will 
dare harm pardah women. I will see you again to- 
night.” 

In Sita’s highly wrought state every moment of 
delay seemed an hour. What did the pandita 
mean? Her talk to the girls was utter foolishness. 
Why had she asked her to raise her veil at the wrong 
time? The cab had moved up and was no longer in 
the way. Why did she not start ? ” 

Ram Chandra all this time stood outwardly calm, 
watching the church door. The moment the pandita 
again gave the order to her driver, however, he sprang 
into the hansom. It, too, was now hanjpered in its 
movements by a victoria and another cab approaching 
the curbstone, yet when the hansom had turned around, 
the carriage still stood in the same place. The veiled 
girls standing by felt that Ram Chandra looked suspi- 
ciously at them and at the carriage. But the pandita’s 
raised voice was now heard through the closed door 
sharply berating the gariwan for his slowness and stu- 
pidity and urging him to the utmost haste; and when 
the carriage drove off at full speed the hansom fol- 
lowed hard after. 

Notwithstanding the pandita’s chiding of her 
driver, the carriage had not tarried without her orders; 
and Ram Chandra’s doubts were not without founda- 
tion; for in the brief time occupied by the turning of 


224 


The Trial 


his cab, Sita and Bhakti had changed places. The 
girls were of about the same height, were dressed 
alike and veiled, and the pandita allowed the young 
man no time for close scrutiny. 

As Sita stood by Mohani’s side tensely erect, the 
ringing of the horses' hoofs sounded farther and far- 
ther down the street, sounded above the beating of 
her heart, and brought to her a sense of joyful relief. 

They had waited but a moment when a man passed 
them. Without pausing he addressed them in a low 
tone : — 

Come to my house." 

“ Ji," responded Sita, for the voice was Mr. Chat- 
terji's. 

Immediately afterward one of the teachers came to 
the girls and conducted them, still veiled, to a public 
cab and then to the barrister’s home. 

During the dinner Sita made only a pretence of eat- 
ing, and once she quite forgot her surroundings and 
sat pale and abstracted. Recovering herself, she apolo- 
gized to Mrs. Chatter ji and with evident effort joined 
in the conversation. But immediately after dinner she 
asked : — 

“ Mr. Chatterji, what would the Government do to 
him if he should kidnap me?" 

‘‘ Why, daughter, I am not sure. Possibly they 
would do no more than impose a heavy fine. But 
it is now only a month until the new trial and Ram 
Chandra is not likely to resort to this expedient. You 
seem very fearful to-day. Come, Sitabai, be our brave 
girl again." 


225 


Flight 

“ I do not want to be a coward,” she replied per- 
plexedly, ‘‘ but, barrister-ji, I have got to be afraid of 
some things.” 

Providence had made Sita a woman and subject to 
fear — not indeed to the silly cultivated fear of mice 
and spiders affected by a certain class, but to the di- 
vine fear of having snatched from her the God-given 
right of every woman, her freedom. 

The tahsildar's son,” Sita went on, “ would not 
in the least mind a fine and he means to take me if 
he gets a chance. I saw it in his eyes.” 

“ Well, daughter,” the barrister said after a moment, 
“ he has now seen you with the girls and the pandita 
— Perhaps ” 

He was called to the phone and when he returned 
he said : — 

‘‘ The pandita is with a friend five miles away. She 
says they had a lively drive and that the hansom still 
waits at the corner.” 

“ Did she inquire about me — us? ” 

‘‘ She inquired about her birds and said the flut- 
terer would do better in another cage.” 

‘‘Ji,” cried Sita. 

“ It shall be changed at once, I told her,” Mr. Chat- 
ter ji continued. 

‘‘ At once,” said the girl, rising. 

An hour later Sita and Mohani were on their way 
to Arampur. 


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BOOK IF 


THE APPEAL 




I 


A BRIGHTER OUTLOOK 

X X OW good it is that I am to have Mr. Gracie 

I I for my judge and how wonderful.’^ 

It was the day of the trial and close upon 
the hour, three o’clock, and Sita, accompanied by Miss 
Ray, was on her way through scorching wind and 
choking dust to the kacheri. Sita, however, gave no 
heed to the discomforts of the drive, nor to the kicking, 
clucking driver, who sat before her brandishing his 
home-made whip over the panting bullocks. But 
when, as they passed a village, two musicians began 
a loud beating of tom-toms she started, and when a 
turn of the road brought the kacheri into view, the 
yellow plastered building with the usual crowd 
of litigants and witnesses waiting on the verandas 
and under the trees, there came over the girl, with 
the recollection of the former trial and its dis- 
appointing end, a feeling of apprehension. For 
only a moment she gave way to it, then rallying 
she said : — 

‘‘ How good it is that I am to have Mr. Gracie for 
my judge and how wonderful.” 

“ Good, indeed ! You could not have a more sym- 
pathetic judge. It is truly providential that he is 
back in India and that he has been promoted and is 


229 


230 


The Appeal 

now Commissioner. If it were not for his promotion 
your appeal could not come before him.” 

True, and Mr. Chatter ji is here. This trial will 
be very different from the other.” 

Very different,” assented Miss Ray, as confident 
as Sita. 

As they approached the building, they saw on the 
veranda two men in white duck suits, one wearing 
a large pith hat, the other a cap. They proved to be 
Mr. Ashley and Mr. Chatter ji. The former, when 
the tonga had come to a halt, assisted the occupants 
to alight, carefully shading them with a white covered 
sun umbrella. Miss Ray, although she had on a pith 
hat, was grateful for the added protection, while Sita, 
upon whose head was only one thickness of her thin 
sari, smilingly accepted the attention, but with the 
observation that she was not afraid of the sun. 

Mr. Chatter ji’s remark as they were going in, that 
the plaintiff had not yet put in an appearance, caused 
Sita to draw a breath of relief. And when inside 
she found Mrs. Ashley, Karunabai, Matiyabai and 
Priya, her courage rose. Greetings had no sooner 
been exchanged than the sound of wheels was heard 
and the eyes of all were turned toward the outer door. 

Some one opened the door, a moment later, to pass 
out, and Sita in the instant that it remained open, saw 
two tongas drive up and recognized the occupants of 
the first one: Ram Chandra, his brother, their great- 
uncle, and Ganga Prasad, the barrister. Krishna Rao 
was giving orders and something in his loud discord- 
ant voice sent a tremor through the girl, and in- 


A Brighter Outlook 231 

voluntarily, as the door opened again, she stepped be- 
hind Miss Ray and Mr. Ashley. 

When the tahsildar's party had taken possession of 
a far corner of the room, Sita with her sari drawn 
well over her head again turned her eyes toward the 
door. She had observed that the second tonga was 
curtained and was not surprised when there entered 
two veiled women, one wearing a red, the other a 
coarse, white sarL With them was Janak Ram, now 
a tall lad ten years of age, who led them to a corner 
near Sita. 

Please come,” whispered Sita to Matiyabai and 
the latter went with her to speak to the veiled women. 
The girl, however, did not address her mother until 
she had first spoken to the other whom she rightly 
supposed to be Bhura, her uncle’s wife. 

Tulsiabai partly lifted her sari, disclosing a thin, 
weary face with its piteous border of shaved grey 
hair. Her smile of joy upon seeing Sita was speedily 
followed by an anxious pleading expression. 

My daughter — I beg you, my dear daughter ” 

she began. 

‘'So this is the rebel daughter?” interrupted the 
aunt, lifting her veil. “ Wah! how tall! And what 
a wonder that the tahsildar^s son is willing to take 
so old a bride. And she a grown woman 1 Hdi! Hdi! 
At her age I was the mother of three.” 

“ The mission people have different customs,” said 
Matiyabai. 

“ The mission people 1 But she is a Rajputni and 
a fine specimen, too. She is like her father’s people. 


232 


The Appeal 

It is not so very strange that he should want her, even 
if she is old. But it is by the mercy of Ram, and 
now, young woman, you’ve brought enough trouble 
and disgrace in the family and I advise you to give 
up right now before you’re made to! and him the 

tahsildar's son and rich! You ungrateful ” 

Disgrace ? ” exclaimed Sita, turning to her mother. 

‘‘What else?” questioned the aunt. '' Hdi! Hdi! 
Surely you know ” 

“ Mother, dear mother, you do not, — you will not 
be against me ? ” 

“ My dear, your father ” 

A loud exclamation from the far corner arrested 
further speech and Tulsiabai hastily lowered her 
veil. 

Sita looked across the room to see upon Ram 
Chandra’s forehead a scowl; a scowl intensified by 
the heavy lines of paint which proclaimed the wearer 
a worshipper of Vishnu. 

“ Look ! ” he cried. “ See them ! See the widow ! 
We ordered her not to talk.” 

The girl had drawn herself up to her full height, 
and with one arm thrown about her mother, stood 
with ashen face and flashing eyes. 

Krishna Rao was now loudly berating the women 
and commanding Janak Ram to take them away. The 
elder brother, too, and the priest and the aged uncle, 
who had come in the place of the father who was ill, 
wore the marks of Vishnu. 

The boy looked at the angry man, at his aunt who 
was ordering and entreating Tulsiabai to go with her. 


A Brighter Outlook 233 

and at his indignant sister, and his brow clouded with 
perplexity and anger. 

“ Brother,” Sita said to him, “ do you eat this 
abuse? Have you forgotten that you are Pandit 
Janak’s son, and the son of a King?” 

Instantly the lad’s perplexity vanished and he 
stepped in front of his mother and sister, where he 
stood with military erectness. 

“ See what you have done ! ” remonstrated Ganga 
Prasad to Krishna Rao. “ Doing kindness, allow me 
to manage the matter.” 

His uncle, too, besought Krishna Rao, and he ceased 
to speak. 

Miss Ray and Mrs. Ashley had at once joined Sita 
upon hearing Ram Chandra’s exclamation. 

He had given them a glance and then again directed 
his attention to the girl. In the silence that now fell, 
she heard him say in a low, surprised tone, as though 
talking aloud : — 

“ The battle is joined and it is not to be fought with 
the missionaries — but with her.” 

Ganga Prasad had, in the meantime, courteously 
invited Janak Ram to one side. Though he went with 
evident reluctance he returned almost immediately and 
conducted his mother and aunt to an unoccupied cor- 
ner of the room. 

The middle door into the courtroom now opened, 
and while a number of men came out, Mr. Chatter ji 
informed Sita that it was time for her case. 

“ I hope,” he added, ‘‘ that this skirmish has not 
made you regret fighting the suit ? ” 


234 


The Appeal 

Regret? You know, honoured friend, there was 
nothing else left me.” 

“ How did you succeed with your mother ? ” 

‘‘ She — they are on the other side. I had no 
time ” 

“ Never fear. The other side gained nothing in 
that brush.” 

The pandita and all of her friends now joined Sita 
and entered the courtroom. This room, Sita observed, 
was unchanged since her first trial. There were the 
same high cream-coloured walls, their bare expanse 
relieved by six large windows with transoms. Near 
the front was the pankha; and the long heavy teak 
pole with its linen frills formed the only ornament 
in the room. Beneath it on a platform was the judge’s 
large, square desk and near this a table where sat 
the white-robed clerks. At either end of the pankha 
were tables and seats for the attorneys. 

Facing the judge stood two groups of chairs. 
Those on the left side were at once appropriated by 
the tahsildar's party and when they were all taken, 
Krishna Rao sent a man to get chairs from the other 
side; and when he returned with the report that the 
chairs were occupied he exclaimed angrily: — 

''Are! bapre bap! What is this! What a word 
of shame for women to sit in the presence of men! 
These foreigners are turning our natural customs up- 
side-down. Foreigners ” 

The judge now called for order and, as Sita looked 
into his fine, benignant face, her hope for victory 
gained strength. 


A Brighter Outlook 235 

Mr. Ganga Prasad, in filmy white kurta and waist- 
cloth, patent leather English-made shoes and em- 
broidered cap, with the paint of a Vishnu sect upon 
his forehead, stood with confident air, ready to open 
the case. 

Your honour,’' he said, bowing and salaaming to 
the Commissioner, “ it is my esteemed privilege to 
represent in this case the renowned tahsildar, his ex- 
cellency Narian Ram Chandra Lakshman Bharat and 
his famous son. Ram Chandra. The case, your excel- 
lency, is exceedingly clear and translucent, simple and 
elementary ; and, your excellency, in whom all wisdom 
and justice and equity reside, will, we are assured and 
confident, give to us who have the side of right and 
truth and justice, the wise and just decision, according 
to law.” 

He then went on with a declaration of the case, 
asserting that the marriage was a pakka marriage; 
lawfully arranged by the parents of the boy Ram 
Chandra and of the girl Sita, according to the rules 
of their castes, confirmed by legal contract and reli- 
gious ceremonies, and by feasts and gifts. He further 
stated that some years after the marriage, the girl’s 
people, having become poor because of the famine, sent 
her to Arampur; that here she had fallen into the 
hands of missionaries, who had broken her caste, 
changed her religion, and refused to allow her to re- 
turn to the house of her father’s people, or to go to 
the house of her husband; and that said Sita had 
been so influenced by said missionaries that she had 
many times refused the requests and commands of 


236 The Appeal 

her mother and her husband to return to Raj Gaon 
for the second marriage ceremony. He asserted, 
moreover, that the said Sita having entered into cor- 
respondence with the said Ram Chandra, had finally 
given her absolute refusal to the second marriage cere- 
mony, and so to the fulfilling of the contract made 
by her parents: that even after the very wise and 
just government had in a former trial decided against 
her she had persisted in this refusal. 

We have here,” he concluded, “ many capable, 
competent, and trustworthy witnesses to give evidence 
and testimony which will prove clearly, conclusively, 
and beyond the peradventure of a doubt, that what 
we have stated is truth.” 

The judge’s face, during this speech, remained im- 
passive. 

The plaintiff sat with his black eyes expressing in 
turn anger, determination, and satisfaction. He 
listened to his barrister, but kept his eyes in Sita’s 
direction. Her face, however, he could not see, as 
she kept her sari drawn well forward, and her chair 
was on a line with his. 

Mr. Chatter ji opened the case for the defence in 
a simple, impressive manner. 

“ Your honour,” h^ began, “ we have much to say 
in reply. We admit that there was a marriage ar- 
ranged between the plaintiff and the defendant. But 
we have in this country several forms of marriage 
and that this was a pakka marriage we wish to have 
proved. And even should it be shown that it was a 
pakka marriage we have to say that we are able to 


A Brighter Outlook 237 

give good and sufficient reasons why it should be 
annulled.” 

The counsel for the plaintiff called as his first wit- 
ness Ram Dev, whom Sita recognized as a priest and 
astrologer of Raj Gaon, the family priest of the tah- 
sildar. Ram Dev wore a flowing white loin-cloth, 
upon his head a white turban. His complexion was 
very fair and upon his brow were the marks of wor- 
shippers of Vishnu. He took his oath, as did all 
the Hindu witnesses, upon a bottle of Ganges water. 

The priest certified that the marriage between the 
plaintiff and the defendant was pakka, that the cere- 
monies were according to caste rules and the religious 
rites of the sect to which the parties belonged, the 
sect that worshipped Ram Chandra as the true incar- 
nation of the Great God Vishnu. Ram Dev further, 
stated that he had been a witness to the payment of 
money in dowry and gifts, that to his knowledge 
the tahsildar had given money to the family of the 
defendant during the illness of the father, and that 
he had given aid to the defendant's brother. In 
answer to a question he stated the age of the defend- 
ant as fourteen years. Counsel for the defence al- 
lowed the priest to go without cross-examination, stat- 
ing that he would recall him later. 

A number of others gave evidence as to the status 
of the marriage and the generosity of Ram Chandra's 
people to the defendant's family during the famine. 

All of these Mr. Chatter ji let go without question. 

The next witness,'' said Mr. Ganga Prasad, with 
an air of satisfaction, “ is the defendant's mother.'' 


238 The Appeal 

There was a slight stir in the room, due not only 
to the relationship of the witness to the litigants, but 
also to the rarity of the appearance of pardah women 
in court; and when a tinkle of bells was heard, all 
turned their eyes expectantly upon the door. 

Janak Ram first entered, then stood aside for the 
women to pass. 

His aunt, talking of the shame of it all, stopped in 
the doorway and the sound of bells ceased. She was 
covered with a crimson sari from head to foot, with 
the exception of one bare arm which escaped through 
the folds of her drapery, displaying a dozen or more 
bracelets and armlets and several finger rings. Her 
feet were bare and decorated with both toe rings and 
anklets. It was the latter that boasted the tiny bells, 
and when she moved on they again began their tin- 
kling accompaniment. 

Tulsiabai now appeared in the doorway, and she, 
too, stopped, as though loath to enter. Tulsiabai was 
of lighter build than her sister-in-law, and though 
slightly stooped, taller. Her coarse, meaningful sari 
of unbordered white was of scant fulness but draped 
in the usual fashion; her bare feet and her thin hand 
that hung trembling by her «ide were free of orna- 
ments. 

When the judge with gentlest courtesy had desig- 
nated the place where she was to stand, her son es- 
corted her to the spot and remained at her side. As, 
with her face veiled, she took the oath upon the bottle 
of Ganges water, the tremor in her voice and hand were 
so marked, that the judge, in order to give her time 


A Brighter Outlook 239 

to overcome her agitation, made business with the 
clerks. 

Tulsiabai bore witness that she and her daughter’s 
father had consented to this marriage, that th^y had 
expended much money in dowry, feasts, and gifts, that 
the tahsildar had likewise spent much money. 

And the plaintiff has done much for your son since 
his father passed away, has he not ? ” Mr. Ganga 
Prasad questioned. 

“ He has paid Janak Ram’s fees at school, and 
bought him some books.” 

“ And he helped you during the famine, you will 
remember ? ” 

The witness was silent. 

“ You know Ram Chandra’s father contributed to 
the care of Sita’s father when he was ill?” persisted 
the barrister with assurance. 

Mr. Chatter ji objected to the form of the question 
and the objection being sustained, Mr. Ganga Prasad 
varied his query. 

But Tulsiabai remained silent. 

Krishna Rao’s eyes glared angrily. “We can 
prove ” he began. 

But here Ganga Prasad interposed. “We have al- 
ready proved the point,” he said with a bland smile. 
“ It is of no importance, of no consequence, if she has 
forgotten some small and insignificant matter. She 
admits the fact of receiving much help, and that is 
amply and abundantly sufficient for that point. We 
will now proceed to prosecute our interrogations to 
better purpose. We understand, mother of Sita ” 


240 


The Appeal 

‘‘ Mr. Prasad,” interrupted Ram Chandra, in a low 
tone which was, however, distinctly audible, you 
will oblige me by omitting the use of my wife’s 
name.” 

‘‘ Certainly; no offence intended. We understand, 
mother of Janak Ram, that you came to Arampur 
upon several occasions to get your daughter.” 

“ I came three times to Arampur.” 

And she would not return with you ? The mis- 
sionaries would not allow her to go? Did they not 
object to her marriage? Did the missionaries not tell 
you that she was dead ? ” 

Again Mr. Chatter ji protested and again his ob- 
jections were sustained. 

Tell us about your first visit to Arampur.” 

The first time I came I was told that she was 
dead, — ^both she and Mohan Lai.” 

So we understand, — ^the missionaries were deter- 
mined to keep her.” 

“ It was a mistake.” 

A marvellous and amazing mistake. The mis- 
sionaries made the mistake of saying that she was 
dead when she was alive and well ? ” 

“ No, barrister-ji; I saw no missionary on this trip. 
It was the mistake of the Great Sahib’s chaprassi. 
Another Sita had just died and he told me it was 
my daughter?” 

“ Indeed. And who told him ? ” 

“ The ayah told him that one Sita had died and he 
read from his book and said it was my Sita.” 

‘‘ And when you came the second time, when the 


A Brighter Outlook 241 

plaintiff’s father sent you for the girl, why did you 
not get her ? ” 

The second time no one sent me. I came of my- 
self. The tahsildafs people did not know that I was 
coming.” 

‘‘ Did you not come for your daughter ? Why did 
you not get her? ” 

I came for my daughter. But I stayed some days 
and I saw that she was happy; that she had good 
clothes and food, such as I could not give her. Be- 
sides she was learning in school every day, and she 
loved learning as her father did. Because of the 
school my daughter was willing to stay; and I did not 
find it in my heart to take her away.” 

And when the plaintiff sent you again ? ” 

“ It was about a year later that the tahsildar sent 
me. Sita was not there at that time. She was away 
in the mountains.” 

“ You did not see her, but you asked that she be 
sent to you as Ram Chandra’s father requested ? ” 

I gave his message to the missionaries.” 

“ You gave his message and demanded that the girl 
return home ? ” 

“ I gave his message,” Tulsiabai repeated, then 
added falteringly, “ I could not speak with great force 
because the girls, my daughter’s friends, told me how 
happy she was and that she was learning her books 
in a wonderful way; and I had promised ” 

‘‘ And did you agree to leave her ? ” 

“ I had agreed the year before to leave her for three 
years.” 


242 The Appeal 

Did you not demand her immediate return home?” 

“ I — ^no, I said that her husband called her, but 
that I, — ^myself, — did not call her.” 

“ false widow ! ” Krishna Rao ejaculated. 

The judge gave him a stern rebuke which drew 
from Sita a look of gratitude. 

“ But the other times you demanded that she re- 
turn,” the barrister now stated. 

“ I did not come again until the trial.” 

‘‘We understand that you now wish, that you com- 
mand, your daughter to return to Raj Gaon, to fulfil 
the obligations made by her father ? ” 

“ Mother ! ” cried Sita, her heart’s protest in her 
voice. 

Tulsiabai turned her veiled face toward her daugh- 
ter and was silent until the barrister had twice re- 
peated his question. 

“ I — did — wish it,” she then answered slowly and 
hesitatingly. 

“ Of course you do not wish your daughter to defy 
you, to disregard her father’s last wishes, to bring 
disgrace and stigma upon your people and caste and 
religion by getting a divorce, — and a shameful un- 
heard of thing in your caste, — from her legal and 
true husband? ” 

“ I, — no ” Tulsiabai answered faintly. 

“ Mother ! ” entreated Sita again. 

“Of course you do not. You are a true Hindu, 
not a deserter to the enemies of our religion, — ^you are 
not a traitor to your country.” The barrister spoke 
strongly. 


A Brighter Outlook 243 

But Tulsiabai did not hear. The agonized appeal 
in her daughter’s voice quite unnerved her. 

“ I — wish ” she began, then fell fainting to the 

floor. 

Dr. Doran ran, but Sita was before her. 

“ Water,” ordered the physician. ‘‘ Don’t raise her 
but help me lay her under the pankha.” 

The judge gave a recess and had the windows 
opened, letting in the hot winds. And when water 
was thrown in the face of the patient she began to 
revive. 

“ Water,” she said feebly as soon as she could speak. 

‘‘ Wait, Sita, do not give it,” interposed her aunt 
in a flutter of excitement. “You will break her 
caste ! ” 

“ I forgot. You give it, honoured aunt.” 

“ Ram forbid ! This is her fasting time.” 

There was a moment’s pause and the voice of 
Krishna Rao was heard saying: — 

“ Such a fuss to make over a widow’s fainting. 
That is very ordinary in the hot season. They want 
to break her caste and make her a Christian.” 

“ Dear aunt,” pleaded Sita, “ please give her 
water.” 

“ And you people have polluted this water with 
your touch,” said the woman. 

“ Give me the lota/' demanded Janak Ram and 
taking it from his aunt he emptied it at a window, 
refilled, and held it to his mother’s lips. 

Sita was supporting her and comforting her with 
endearing words. But when, her eyes suffused with 


244 


The Appeal 

tears, she thanked her brother, he set his lips and his 
eyes flashed anger and condemnation. 

It was now late and court resumed only for the pur- 
pose of making a formal adjournment. Mr. Chatter ji 
before the adjournment, however, gave notice that 
he would question the last witness on the following 
day. 


II 


AT THE SOCIAL PROGRESS CLUB 

T hat evening was the time for the regular 
monthly meeting of the Social Progress Club. 
On account of the trial there had been some 
talk of postponing it, but the executive committee 
finally decided to go on with it because of the trial. 

Sita’s experience of the day had banished her in- 
terest in the club. 

‘‘ Miss Sahib-ji, please let me stay at home to-night,’' 
she said to Miss Ray after their return from the 
courthouse. “ I can get my mind upon nothing but 
my trial ! ” 

‘‘ We’ll see about it,” the teacher responded, send- 
ing the girl to the garden where she presently joined 
her. 

There Sita repeated her request with the explana- 
tion : — 

I think of nothing but my trial and my mother.” 
Miss Ray told her that she might do as she liked, 
but that her reason for staying away was an excellent 
one for going to the club. She then reminded her that 
the subject was the Elevation of Indian Womanhood. 

“ It will encourage the society,” she added, to 
have you there — ^my brave girl who dares to champion 
the cause of her countrywomen.” 

245 


246 The Appeal 

“ Oh, Miss Sahib- ji ! I am not brave. I just could 
not keep still when my mother came out on his side ! 

‘‘ Why should you ? They would not let you talk 
to her.” 

“ And when she fainted, I could have cried out.” 

But you did not. Instead you took care of her. 
I heard Dr. Doran commending your presence of 
mind.” 

Did she ? ” Sita smiled, then said with a heavy 
sigh, “ My mother is against me, and my brother; 
all of my people.” 

“ So they have been all the time; and since they 
are orthodox Hindus it is quite natural.” 

“ Those brutal men both called her a widow, 
shameless ruffians ; and yet she is on their side ! ” 

“ Hindu widows are not accustomed to courteous 
treatment, and this alliance with a powerful family 
must seem a great thing to her now.” 

“ She has no sympathy for me.” 

“ I am sure she has. Her fainting was due to that, 
at least, in part.” 

‘Hf I thought that! My poor mother!” 

‘‘We all think so. But you must expect to be mis- 
understood by your people. That is the penalty people 
must pay for being ahead of their age. You know 
how the Jews maligned and destroyed their prophets, 
— and those prophets were the greatest reformers the 
world has known.” 

“ But I am not a prophet nor a reformer.” 

“ Perhaps you are both.” 

Sita looked mystified, then said: — 


At the Social Progress Club 247 

Mr. Chatterji is a prophet.” 

‘‘ Mr. Chatterji is India’s greatest prophet, and his 
speech at the trial will be read by thousands. But, 
without you, there could be no speech. Until India’s 
women will help themselves no one can help them. 
Your example, my dear, will do more to direct atten- 
tion to the child-marriage evil than a hundred 
speeches by great men.” 

“ I do want to help. Miss Sahib- ji. Ever since 
that day you told me about Joseph and Kismat, I have 
dreamed of some day doing some great thing for my 
people.” 

“ I know, daughter, and it has been my hope : but — 
for great work one needs great preparation.” 

“ Great preparation. It will take years yet. I must 
finish my college course, then have special normal 
work. I want to go on with my Sanscrit too 
and always I mean to take new courses in Bible 
study.” 

‘‘ Great preparation,” went on Miss Ray, prepa- 
ration of mind and heart. Do you remember, daugh- 
ter, what the Master said to two of His Apostles when 
they proposed to do the chief work of His King- 
dom ? ” 

You mean James and John? ” 

“James and John. He answered them with the 
question, ‘ Are ye able to drink the cup that I drink? 
or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized 
with ? ’ ” 

Sita, after repeating the words perplexedly, said : — 

“ I may, I feel that I can — do something for my 


248 The Appeal 

people — after I am freed from this weight, this dread- 
ful marriage.” 

‘‘ That, my dear, will, I hope, be soon, very soon.” 

Sita, when left alone, remained for a time among 
the trees of the garden. But when, after dinner, the 
older girls started with Matiyabai to Mr. Ashley’s, 
where the club was to meet, she was among the num- 
ber. In no humour for chatter she fell behind the 
others with Mohani, who understood her friend’s 
mood. It was almost dark and as they walked, the 
familiar sights and sounds intruded themselves upon 
Sita’s thoughts, — the small, baked, barren fields close 
at hand, the mud-huts and the drowsy life of a village 
further on, and all about, where nothing obstructed the 
view of the horizon, the haze of smoke, due to out- 
door cooking, formed a dark dado against the blue 
of the sky. The moon, almost at the full, was only 
occasionally obscured by the light clouds which played 
about its face. As they approached the bungalow the 
beating of tamtams in a village beyond, announcing 
a wedding, rudely recalled to Sita her own marriage 
ceremonies and her present ordeal. 

Preparations had been made for an out-of-doors 
meeting, away from the insufferable heat of the house. 
Over the parched grass in front of the bungalow 
cotton rugs were spread, upon which were arranged 
chairs, benches, and an organ draped with flags. 
Taking seats facing the house, the girls, while they 
waited, watched by the lights within the breaking up 
of a dinner party. This possessed special interest be- 
cause it included as guests not only Miss Ray and Dr. 


At the Social Progress Club 249 

Doran but the Pandita Kamliabai and the Honourable 
Mohan Chatter ji. 

Priya, who had been married three years before, 
accompanied by her little son, now came up and spoke 
to the girls with her old merry laugh. When Kamlia- 
bai appeared on the veranda she said : — 

‘‘ Oh, I wish the pandita would not keep her hair 
short and wear the coarse widow’s sari. Why does 
she? She is not a Hindu now.” 

It is for the sake of her influence,” replied Sita. 

“ She does not mind,” added Mohani. 

‘‘ And her life,” Sita went on, “ is anything but 
that of a despised Hindu widow. Her life is full of 
joy.” 

The pandita, accompanied by Mr. Chatter] i and 
Miss Ray, now came from the bungalow and after the 
latter had thanked Sita with a smile for her presence, 
and the others with words of praise, the girl began 
to be glad she had come. And when Pansy came 
dancing out announcing in high glee that she was to 
stay up until the club went home, and that she was 
going to sit by her Sita, the latter forgot her anxiety 
in the joy of the blithesome yellow-haired child. 

“ Pansy’s eyes are larger than ever,” she remarked 
to Mrs. Ashley when, a little later, the child was en- 
gaged in playing with Priya’s baby. 

It is because she is so thin. She ought to have 
gone home before, but we are going on Saturday.” 

“ I know, with Ray Miss Sahib.” 

Yes, and America’s cold winds will soon blow 
roses in my Pansy’s cheeks.” 


2^0 


The Appeal 

Mrs. Ashley now presented to Sita Mr. Stafford, 
an English missionary from another station. He 
broached the subject of the trial and told her he had 
come to Arampur for the purpose of attending it, 
then heartily commended her courage in standing 
against child-marriage. 

‘‘ I thank you, Sahib-ji,” she replied. It is hard 
and I fear I would not have dared to do it were it 
not for my own selfish interest.” 

‘‘Are you certain it is for your interest? If you 
should not win ” 

“I shall win! Judge Gracie and Mr. Chatterji — 
but even if I knew I should fail, I would do it — I 
mean I ought to do it for the sake of the others.” 

“ You are right; you are a brave girl.” 

“ No, Sahib-ji, I am not brave. I almost lost 
heart to-day in court, but Miss Ray is brave for me, 
and Kamliabai.” 

“ Well said, Sitabai,” Mr. Stafford replied, laugh- 
ing. “ That is a good way to put it. We all need that 
somebody should be brave for us and with us. I still 
believe you brave and you look it. I have many mili- 
tary friends and I know that the heart of the soldier 
sometimes quails. He needs the stimulus of music 
and of battle to bring out his courage. One of the 
bravest soldiers I ever knew told me that, although he 
had been in forty battles, he always in the beginning 
felt afraid.” 

“ Is it so ? I thought a soldier was always courage- 
ous.” 

Mr. Stafford now made way for a youth, who. 


At the Social Progress Club 251 

with another of the college boys, was talking to Mo- 
hani, but with his eyes upon Sita. It was Lakshman, 
now a well-grown handsome young man in the senior 
class. The moment the opportunity offered he was 
at Sita’s side and with a tremor in his voice he 
assured her of his hope of a favourable outcome 
of her trial. While he talked, Sita’s attention was 
drawn by the gaze of a bearded man who stood 
in the outskirts of the company in the shadow of a 
tree. 

It is my trial that has brought that strange man 
here,’' she thought and, annoyed, turned away. 

The president of the club, who was the professor 
of Sanscrit, was waiting with his wife, and Lakshman 
gave them place. As they talked, Sita heard the sound 
of wheels and looking up saw the carriage of the 
Deputy Commissioner, and watching eagerly saw that 
its occupants were Mrs. Grade and Mrs. Frisbie. Mr. 
Ashley took them to seats near the organ and the girl 
heard the Commissioner’s wife say : — 

“ Mr. Gracie, of course, could not come, though both 
of us are members of your club. However, as we do 
not now live here, I protested against missing this 
meeting, and Mrs. Frisbie was good enough to accom- 
pany me.” 

After the missionaries had welcomed the new- 
comers, Mrs. Gracie observed Sita and Mohani and 
beckoned them to her side. When she presented them 
to the wife of the Deputy Commissioner, the lat- 
ter regarded Sita curiously, then asked, in a perfectly 
audible voice: — 


252 The Appeal 

Is she the one who is having the trial ? My word, 
but she is bold to ask for a divorce/' 

The girl felt chilled but when, presently, Mrs. 
Gracie drew her to one side and engaged her in con- 
versation, her spirits arose. 

All present came to speak to the great lady who 
took so much interest in their club, and the young 
men seized the opportunity of speaking to their com- 
rade. There was one exception; the strange young 
man remained by the tree in the background and spoke 
to no one. In a lull in the conversation, however, Sita 
heard Pansy addressing him. 

'' Bhai [brother],’' she said in her persuasive 
treble, “ don’t you want to come too, to meet the big 
Mem Sahibs and our Sita ? ” 

“ No,” he replied gruffly, then added something she 
did not hear. The girl felt annoyed at the child and 
the man and at the continued beating of the tamtam. 

‘‘ Why, Pansy dear,” she remonstrated when the 
child came back to her, “ do you think this is a recep- 
tion?” 

‘‘ Sure, a reception for you and the big Mem Sahibs. 
The man says ” 

‘‘ Never mind.” 

Mr. Ashley now brought two strangers to the 
group. 

“ These are Arya Samajists,” he said, and deeply 
interested in social reform.” 

The younger man bowed, then stood silent with 
an occasional glance at the girl, while his father, Siva 
Charan De, talked with an alertness of look and man- 


At the Social Progress Club 253 

ner which sharply contrasted with the repose so usual 
in the East. 

“ Yes, Miss Ray,” he began, your struggle is our 
struggle, this child-marriage custom is the curse of 
our land. If our people had but eyes, all that would 
be necessary to convince them would be a scene like 
this,” and he glanced at the young men and women 
who were conversing freely together. 

While they talked, servants in snowy pugris and 
sashes of brilliant colours began with silent tread to 
pass among the guests with refreshments. 

'‘ You will not partake with us, Mr. De?” Sita 
asked, with an arch smile, as the sherbet and biscuits 
were passed. 

" No, daughter,” he responded, a little confused. 
" Really I should like it, the iced drink would be de- 
lightful this hot evening. I don’t believe at all in 
caste, not more than you do, but it would not do. 
Wah! If I should partake of your refreshment I 
would be reported all over India as a convert to Chris- 
tianity.” 

" And that would be a calamity? ” 

"It would, Sitabai; my influence would be gone.” 

" Mr. Chatter ji still has some influence, I think,” 
she said, with a smile at the latter. 

" Oh, yes, with Christians, with everybody in a 
sense, but — I beg his pardon — as an outsider, as a 
foreigner.” 

" Not quite so bad as that,” Mr. Chatter ji replied, 
" though enough to pain me deeply; but my influence 
is straight out for the truth.” 


254 


The Appeal 

Yes, yes, no doubt; but what is truth? That is 
the question. Had not our ancient writers the truth? 
Did they not teach one God and adult marriage and 
all these things? My aim, the aim of the Arya Sama- 
jists is to be loyal to our own religion and customs, 
and to restore them to their pristine purity and 
grandeur. We are reformers, but ’’ 

Here the president of the club stood up and all con- 
versation ceased. After a few words of welcome he 
stated that there were a number of people of distinc- 
tion present who would favour the company with short 
speeches; that after a song by the college quartette, 
Mr. Stafford would give the opening address upon 
the subject, Social Regeneration.” 

“ India’s imperative need,” he began, “ is not, as 
some would have us believe, political revolution, but 
social regeneration.” He then recounted the reform 
measures passed by government and discoursed 
briefly upon the results of the government educa- 
tional system. 

Mr. Chatter ji was the next on the programme, his 
theme, The Women of India.” 

He spoke of the honourable position accorded by 
Christian lands to women; of their former state in 
India as shown by ancient literature, then of 
their present sorrowful condition. He reviewed the 
progress made in the last half century and named with 
high encomiums some of his countrywomen, doctors 
and lawyers, city school superintendents and college 
professors. To the Pandita Ramabai, he referred as 
one of the great women of the world. 


At the Social Progress Club 255 

Our women/’ he said, “ are learning, now and 
then one, to stand against the oppression and degra- 
dation of the ages, and except they so stand, both 
government and reformers are powerless to help 
them.” 

He spoke in recognition of the invaluable service 
the missionaries had rendered India in the elevation 
of her women and mentioned Christian schools and 
colleges as a mighty factor. 

By the training,” he concluded, “ that these are 
giving to the thousands of girls who are so fortunate 
as to fall into their hands they are creating for India 
a new and high ideal. Our girls, the Christian 
young women, in the measure that they are true, ear- 
nest, self-reliant, and self-respecting, are India’s 
hope! They are the vanguard, the prophecy of a 
future when India shall have a restored Young 
Womanhood, when her daughters shall be as corner 
stones polished after the similitude of a palace.” 

The speech was an appreciation and Sita’s soul re- 
sponded. Her thoughts were still upon Mr. Chat- 
ter ji’s words when she heard her own name. 

“ It is requested,” the president repeated, ‘‘ that 
Sitabai recite for us.” 

The Lily poem, by Longfellow,” explained Mrs. 
Gracie, leaning toward her. 

Sita, arrayed in white draperies, her beautiful face 
radiant, recited the poem, closing with these lines : — 

“ Bear a lily in thy hand; 

Gates of brass cannot withstand 
One touch of that magic wand. 


256 The Appeal 

‘‘Bear through sorrow, wrong and truth, 

In thy hand the dew of youth. 

On thy lips the smile of truth. 

“ O, that dew, like balm, shall steal 
Into wounds, that cannot heal. 

Even so sleep our eyes doth seal; 

“And that smile, like sunshine dart 
Into many a sunless heart, 

For a smile of God thou art.” 

‘‘ ‘ For a smile of God thou art/ ’’ repeated Mrs. 
Gracie. 

It so happened that when Sita recited she faced the 
tree beneath which the stranger sat. However, she 
did not observe him until she had finished, when she 
saw that he had come forward into the moonlight. 
Immediately he stepped back into the shadow, but 
not until he had given her the impression that she had 
somewhere seen him. At the same instant the dis- 
quieting beat of the tamtams intruded upon her con- 
sciousness. A moment later the sound of the organ 
drew her attention. 

A foreign young man whom she did not know, a 
new missionary, was singing ‘‘ Annie Laurie.^’ 

The pandita after this gave a talk on, The Part 
of Men in the Education of Women.’' In substance 
it was as follows : — 

If I speak of our ancient civilization, which was 
beyond compare; or of our modern men of India, 
non-Christian and Christian reformers who are striv- 
ing to assimilate the great things of Western civiliza- 
tion and literature, many who have in this attempt 


At the Social Progress Club 257 

sacrificed name and lands and home, some life itself, 
— what words can I find to define their heroism, to 
accord them honour ? '' She referred to Malabari and 
other reformers, then said, “We may well be proud 
of these men of India. But when in my mind I sepa- 
rate this handful, when I think of the men of India 
as a whole, I am ashamed.” The earnest voice grew 
low, and the erect head bowed as she went on, “ No 
men among civilized nations have ever so oppressed 
and degraded their women as have the Hindus. I 
have but to say a word or two to bring up the hideous 
picture; infanticide, — for in spite of the law girl babies 
are still destroyed, — child-marriage, — including the 
unspeakable wrongs of child wives, child mothers, 
and child widows. Besides these we have the pardah 
and illiteracy, and these are perhaps the greatest 
wrongs, for they make possible all the others. 
They keep our women children and allow them 
no power to rise. But our wretched women have 
their revenge, for our men in wronging their 
women have, unwittingly, immeasurably degraded 
themselves. Yet,” she went on, “ I blame my breth- 
ren less than an outsider must, for I know the con- 
ditions. It is fanaticism, superstition if you will; it 
is Hinduism that makes our men slaves and forbids 
their coming to the aid of the women. And Hinduism 
is the stubbornest foe ever faced by any people. She 
towers above our fair land, encased in such armour 
as the world has never seen, — ^the cast-iron caste sys- 
tem, — with her breast-plate deified custom, and her 
sword the subtlest of philosophies. Her eyes are 


258 The Appeal 

blinded and her ears deafened to the cries of her devo- 
tees, and her heart, from the endurance of years of 
unspeakable and unrebuked iniquity, has become 
harder than iron. But it shall not always be so; even 
now Hinduism reels as she stands, she is drunken with 
the blood of her victims; she staggers and will fall. 
Then, when India learns freedom from the Prince 
of Peace, then will our men, having placed their 
women by their sides, come into their heritage, and 
take again their true place, the peers of the greatest 
men of earth. Then and not till then will India take 
her rightful place among the greatest of the nations. 
For, as Tennyson has said: — 

“The woman’s cause is man’s; 

They rise or sink together. 

Dwarfed or god-like, bond or free.” 

When Kamliabai sat down. Miss Ray was at the 
organ and she at once led the chorus of voices into 
the triumphant strains of The Battle Hymn of the 
Republic,” and Sita sang with her whole heart in 
her voice. 

“We have with us to-night,” the president then an- 
nounced, “ Mr. Siva Charan De of the Indian Arya 
Samaj and an eminent social reformer. He will now 
speak to us on the ' Future of India.’ ” 

After some elaborate compliments, the reformer 
said, “ Could we have such gatherings as this, such 
songs as these all over our land, I might predict her 
future glorious indeed. But such songs are unknown, 
and such assemblies among Hindus impossible, im- 


259 


At the Social Progress Club 

possible. If they were possible, the men indeed might 
compare with the greatest here, but alas, for the 
gentler sex. Few Hindu women can even read, and 
as for such an array of culture, we cannot hope for 
it for many, many years to come. It is our women 
who weigh us down. If the government would only 
provide for universal education for our girls as well 
as for our boys, our Indian youth might acquire learn- 
ing without the bias of the foreign religion of the 
missionary schools, and the problem would be half 
solved. As to the child-marriage question, the gov- 
ernment could, at one stroke, raise the age by law to 
sixteen years. We Arya Samajists are at work on 
this line, but persuasion is slow indeed.’' 

He spoke of the ancient custom when young women 
were chosen as brides, mentioning the marriage of 
Buddha Gautama Siddartha. Mr. De ended with 
the statement that the great desideratum for India 
was a return to ancient ways as recorded in her in- 
comparable literature. 

While the Arya Samajist was concluding Sita was 
startled to see standing in the edge of the assembly 
her solicitor, and close behind him Abdul Khan. The 
solicitor, she observed, stood but for a moment, then 
approached Mr. Chatter ji. The latter gave him a 
chair, but apparently remained absorbed in the 
speaker. 

After the address there followed a trio by Mohani 
and two other girls, and Sita noted that when they 
sang Abdul Khan came nearer. As he did so, she 
heard from the direction of the tree behind her a sup- 


260 The Appeal 

pressed ejaculation. The Mohammedan too, heard, 
and looked with angry surprise toward the tree. A 
moment later he hastily withdrew. Sita turned to 
look at the solicitor. He, too, had gone and so had 
Mr. Chatter ji. 

“What does it all mean?” she asked herself, dis- 
quieted. 

Though Sita knew that there had grown up in cer- 
tain quarters of India, notably in Bengal, a violent 
opposition to the government, and though she knew 
that the entire country was pervaded by a spirit of 
political unrest, she had never before heard any one 
so audacious in his criticisms as this Siva Charan De, 
and she had wondered while she listened what Mr. 
Ashley would say to his imputations against the gov- 
ernment. But if it were possible! What a glorious 
thing it would be for India's women should the gov- 
ernment in a day work this mighty revolution I 

From this thought her attention had been distracted 
by the coming of her solicitor. Yet when Mr. Ashley 
rose to make a concluding talk, she turned toward him 
with eager expectancy. 

The missionary expressed his pleasure in having 
presented to the club the interests of India from the 
different points of view of her lovers. 

“ We must remember, however,” he said presently, 
“that no government is perfect, but that all good 
governments go on to perfection, and as for universal 
education it is still an unattained ideal in Great 
Britain and America. We must not forget the state 
of education when the British came to this land. 


At the Social Progress Club 261 

There were then almost no schools among Hindus 
except for sons of priests and kings. As for making 
the education of the girls of India universal, or even 
general, it seems to me an achievement for the far 
future, when the zenana system shall have become a 
thing of the past. Government now plants and 
fosters girls’ schools wherever the people can be in- 
duced to patronize them. But the results of the 
government girls’ schools are disappointing in the 
main; for in these the chief factor in the success of 
the mission girls’ school is absent, keeping before the 
pupils the highest Christian ideals. 

As to child-marriage, while none can deprecate 
the custom more than I, and while I have no sympathy 
with the sentiment which says to the government, 
‘ hands off,’ neither can I endorse hasty measures 
which must result either in open rebellion or in a law 
that is a dead letter.” 

I wish they would risk a little more,” said Miss 
Ray under her breath. 

“ And I,” assented the pandita. 

Sita heard and echoed the sentiment in her heart. 

Mr. Ashley concluded with an earnest appeal that 
all lovers of India join hands in promoting the agita- 
tion of the living questions of the day, and so pre- 
pare not only for a strong demand for better laws, 
but for their intelligent enforcement. 

All united at the last in singing, “ God save the 
King,” and ‘‘ America,” the lamps upon the organ 
lighting up the while the red, white, and blue of the 
Union Jack, and the Stars and Stripes. 


262 


The Appeal 

Pansy, who in the extreme heat and enforced quiet 
had fallen asleep against Sita’s arm, now wakened, 
and Sita arose with the rest. 

While she sang, her hand rested lovingly on the 
damp curls of the sleepy child who shared her atten- 
tion with the singing. The thought of the stranger 
recurred to her at onde on rising, but it was not until 
the last song was near its end that she allowed herself 
a glance in his direction. He was no longer there. 
He was just going, however, for as she looked, she saw 
him stop beneath a tree beyond. When he emerged 
from its shadow he was without the beard, and behold, 
it was Ram Chandra. 

‘‘ I knew it,” she said, yet with a look of perplexity. 

At this moment the song ceased and the company 
began to talk. But above the murmur of their voices 
Sita heard the monotonous beating of the tamtams. 


Ill 


THE TAHSILDARS SONS 

O N the following day court proceedings began 
with Krishna Rao on the stand. 

The aged uncle had been comfortably 
placed among gaily-coloured cushions on a crimson 
rug at one side of the room near the front. Ram 
Chandra, to-day, sat by his side, from which position 
he obtained a full view of Sita’s face. 

As Krishna Rao took his place, Sita, conscious of his 
scowling gaze, looked intently out of the window; 
but when he turned his eyes in the direction of his 
barrister, she included him, as well as the judge, in 
her field of vision. She observed that he wore the 
same array of jewelry as on the day previous; the 
same yellow satin angarkha and crimson pagri, both 
now streaked with grease from his well-oiled hair, 
and she noted again the Vishnu marks on his fore- 
head. 

The witness gave his name as Krishna Rao 
Bahadur Narian Bharat. He told his story in his 
pompous fashion, angry gleams from his smouldering 
black eyes emphasizing his wrathful protest as he 
spoke of the enormous expense of his brother’s wed- 
ding and of the shameless conduct of his faithless 
shadi-walli. He directly accused the missionaries of 
fraudulently hindering the marriage until she was 
263 


264 The Appeal 

far past the proper and customary age for marriage 
and broadly insinuated that the government had con- 
nived with them to this end. Repeatedly, Mr. Prasad 
cautioned his client to carefulness of speech, and twice 
the judge called him to order. 

Having concluded, he was about to leave the stand 
when the Commissioner inquired if the defence had 
any question. 

“ Yes, your honour,” Mr. Chatterji made answer; 
‘‘ we beg the indulgence of the court while we put 
a question or two to the witness.” 

Krishna Rao looked with defiance at the defendant’s 
counsel. 

“ Bahadur,” inquired the latter, ‘‘ what was the 
standing of the defendant’s father? ” 

Good. He was a member of the panchayat 
[council] and he had land and cattle. If he had not 
been of high family, my father would not have wished 
the marriage.” 

‘‘ Your father, then, suggested the alliance with this 
noble family ? ” 

Perhaps ” 

Was your father a tahsildar at that time? ” 

“He was a malguzar [land holder]. He had a 
half dozen villages then, now he has fifty.” 

“ Since when did fortune awake ? ” 

“ Since the great famine. He received a govern- 
ment position at that time.” 

“ What position ? ” 

“ He was famine relief superintendent for the 
tahsil [district].” 


The Tahsildar’s Sons 


265 

And for this service, what salary did he receive ? ’’ 

“ I object; the questions are irrelevant and imma- 
terial,’' Mr. Ganga Prasad interrupted. 

It is of no consequence,” Mr. Chatter ji responded. 

It will be on the records.” He continued his cross- 
examination : — 

“ During the famine what did the defendant’s 
father do ? ” 

Krishna Rao looked at his barrister before speaking 
who volunteered no more information : — 

‘‘ He caused the boys to read for a time. After- 
wards he was ill.” 

“ Then what happened ? ” 

“ When there was no grass, he sold his cattle.” 

“ Did he get a good price for them? ” 

“A good price? Yes, why not?” 

Do you kno^u^ho bought the cattle ? ” 

“ My father bc^ht them; he had watered land.” 

** Did the defendant’s father keep his land ? ” 

‘‘ No; he sold it after the cattle money was gone.” 
Krishna Rao mopped the perspiration from his face 
with his handkerchief. 

‘‘Who bought it?” 

“ My ” 

“ I object. These questions are irrelevant and im- 
material,” the counsel for the plaintiff protested. 

The judge sustained the objection. 

“ Did the pandit’s family get on comfortably after 
that?” 

“ What do I know ? ” Krishna Rao answered, look- 
ing suspiciously at his interlocutor. 


266 The Appeal 

‘‘Why did the defendant and her brother leave 
home ? 

It — it — came to my ears that there 'was a scarcity 
of food in her father’s house.” 

What happened to the family after the children 
left home? ” 

“ Their' father was ill until many days, then he 
died.” 

“ Of what disease did he die? ” 

“Wah! What do I know?” 

At this point a faint inarticulate sound drew the 
attention to Sita, whose quivering chin indicated her 
inability to maintain her composure. 

“ What did your father do for the defendant’s 
family at this time ? ” 

My father gave them money and food.” 

As he made this statement his eyes were upon Sita, 
whose face showed such scorn and amazement as 
to cause him to turn away in confusion. 

“ What do you propose, Mr. Bharat,” the barrister 
now asked, “ as recompense to the missionaries, if^. 
you take away their charge? They have been to 
heavy outlay for her education.” 

“ Recompense ! Education ! ” burst out the witness 
passionately. ‘‘ Who wanted her to have an educa- 
tion? But she’ll speedily forget her learning when 
she has no books to read. Women are fools.” 

The rasping of the pankha ropes emphasized the 
silence before the next question. 

‘‘ When her natural protectors, her promised hus- 
band’s people forsook her, the missionaries watched 


The Tahsildar^s Sons 267 

over and cared for the child. Surely the tahsildar 
will wish to reimburse them?” 

the missionaries ! They have watched over 

' the child ’ and hindered her marriage until she is a 
woman grown. What my brother wants — of — ^the — 
old thing is more than I know. But since he does 
want her, he shall have her in spite of the missionaries 
and her devilish stubbornness.” 

The judge here administered a sharp reprimand 
and the witness muttered a reluctant apology. 

Mr. Chatter ji went on with his cross-examina- 
tion : — 

“ You have referred, Mr. Bharat, to the defendant’s 
age. Do you know her age ? ” 

‘‘ She is of fourteen years.” 

When you visited Arampur last August, did you 
not say to Miss Ray that she was older ? ” 

‘‘ I did not. It is an outrageous — she was then of 
thirteen years.” 

“ That is all at present.” 

Krishna Rao, wiping the perspiration from his face, 
went muttering to his seat. 

After a short intermission, during which Mr. 
Prasad consulted with his clients, he stated with more 
than his wonted suavity that he still had at hand many 
able and reliable witnesses but that, weighty as their 
testimony would be, it was wholly and entirely super- 
fluous and unnecessary, and that after calling for 
one more most worthy and important witness, he 
would rest the case. ‘‘ This last and most invalu- 
able witness,” he announced, “ is no other than the 


268 The Appeal 

honoured plaintiff himself, Ram Chandra Narian 
Bharat.” 

As he took the oath, Sita listened with averted face, 
but when his counsel questioned him she observed the 
witness while looking toward the judge. 

She took in at a glance his tall well-built figure, his 
fresh white draperies, his turban and sash of delicate 
lavender; and then, for the first time since she was a 
child, she gave his countenance careful scrutiny. 

As she gazed an expression of surprise came over 
her face, and the lines she had so often recited as a 
child recurred to her, — ^the passage from the Rama- 
yana descriptive of Ram : — 

“ All fairest graces join to deck 
His head, his brow, his stately neck, 

And limbs in fair proportion set, 

The manliest form e’er fashioned yet.” 


His counsel took him over no new ground, but this 
witness was the party seeking redress for alleged 
wrongs and Sita felt the response of the little assem- 
bly to the personal appeal; she felt, too, that the judge 
must be impressed by the dignified bearing of the 
younger brother. 

Mr. Chatter ji began his cross-examination: — 

“ I suppose that you, like other Hindus, never saw 
your shadi-walli until the marriage ceremony?” 

“ I did, many times.” 

How was that ? ” 

I saw her at school. Her father was an eminent 
pandit and, as he taught in the town near by, my father 


The Tahsildar^s Sons 269 

sent me to his school. It was there I saw his daugh- 
ter.’' 

“ Indeed ! was it a mixed school ? ” 

‘‘ There are no girls’ schools in that region. It was 
a boys’ school, but she was a little child, and her 
father sometimes brought her with him.” 

‘‘ Did she learn anything ? ” 

‘‘Learn? Wah! She learned to read before any 
of the boys. It was the first I knew that girls could 
learn.” 

While he talked, tender memories of her father and 
his school crowded into Sita’s mind. The voice and 
countenance of the witness brought back the face of 
the Ram Chandra of her childhood, the merry lad 
who one day brought her a Sita-phal [a fruit named 
for the goddess Sita, a custard apple]. Then her 
thoughts flew to the betrothal ceremony, that wonder- 
ful event in her life when for days she had been gaily 
dressed and feasted and given presents and made 
much of, while the tamtams beat their merriest. 

A sudden silence broken by the rasping hum of the 
pankha rope startled Sita from dreamy reminiscence 
into present reality. 

“ I repeat my question,” Mr. Chatterji said after 
a moment. “ Do you approve of the higher education 
of women ? ” 

Krishna Rao muttered and Mr. Prasad protested. 

“ The question has a bearing on my purpose of 
showing the utter unsuitableness of this marriage.” 

The judge sustained the objection, yet the witness 
answered, though with evident effort : — 


270 The Appeal 

‘‘ I — I — do not object to some education for 
women.” 

The question had brought back to Sita instant re- 
minder of the sentiments of her betrothed, sentiments 
she had heard expressed by his own lips, “ Women 
are fools ! ” Through her memory flashed the words, 
destroying instantly her happy recollections. And to 
Ram Chandra’s hesitating admission she gave no cre- 
dence. 

You mean that you are willing to take her in 
spite of her education?” 

‘‘ I will take her,” the witness answered with set 
lips and a dark frown. 

“ About the school again. How long was it be- 
fore the shadi that the defendant went to school? ” 
Some time. A year or two perhaps.” 

“ How old was she at that time ? ” 

“ It is not known to me.” 

“ How old was she at the time of the shadi f ” 

“ Of four years.” 

“ Then she was only two or three years old when 
she learned to read ? ” 

‘‘ It is not known to me.” 

‘'And you were of what age at the time of your 
shadi? ” 

" Of twelve years.” 

“ In what way do you know the defendant’s 
age?” 

" I have heard the talk.” 

" Have you any definite knowledge ? ” 

" The piirohit knows and he says so.” 


The Tahsilda/s Sons 


271 


‘‘ Do you know her age ? ” 

“ It is not possible that I should know, but the pur- 
ohit surely knows/' 

Can you tell me how this incongruous marriage 
was arranged? I mean that a Rajput should marry 
a girl of a class superior, rather than inferior, to his 
own ? ” 

The witness did not answer and his counsel made 
the usual protest against the question, adding, It is 
ridiculously and grotesquely impossible that a boy of 
twelve should know these things." 

But Ram Chandra's firmly set lips suggested that 
other reasons than ignorance kept him silent. 

He is now of twenty-two years," retorted Mr. 
Chatterji. “ I will ask the witness if he is aware 
of the fact that the defendant has become a Chris- 
tian ? " 

“ I have heard so." 

“ Then why do you, a Hindu, persist in demanding 
this Christian girl in marriage ? " 

‘‘ It is my right." The witness's voice grew more 
defiant. 

“ Granting for the time that you were betrothed 
when children, I ask you in the light of all you have 
learned in the university and in mingling with the 
world, in the light of what you have learned of the 
chivalrous treatment of women in Western lands, I 
ask you, bahadur, do you think your course a manly 
one ? Why do you persecute and drag into the courts 
an unwilling bride ? " 

Mr. Prasad made emphatic protest against the ques- 


272 


The Appeal 

tion, and the judge sustained the objection, but Ram 
Chandra with a black frown answered that it was not 
his wish to go to law, but that the missionaries and 
the defendant had compelled him to resort to the courts 
to obtain his legal rights. 

As he concluded the witness looked toward Sita, 
while his barrister came to his assistance by quoting 
a vile law. 

Sita sat immovable, with the hand that lay in her 
lap tightly clinched; her lips, from which every 
vestige of colour had fled, were set and her eyes ablaze 
with anger, scorn, and repugnance; yet above all was 
an expression of suffering that was no less than 
anguish. 

The young man, his own face ashen, turned toward 
a window and did not appear to hear the next ques- 
tion : — 

‘‘ In case the defendant becomes his wife, is the 
plaintiff willing that she remain a Christian ? asked 
Mr. Chatter ji. 

‘‘ Remain a Christian ! ” burst out Krishna Rao. 
“ Not while the tahsildar remains a Hindu.’' 

The counsel for the plaintiff objected, but the judge 
allowed the question. 

It was repeated, but Ram Chandra still stood silent 
and frowning, while the rasping of the pankha ropes 
intruded loudly upon the tense silence. 

I am a Hindu,” he said at last, with evident effort, 
‘‘ and I desire that my wife, too, shall be a Hindu. My 
father will willingly pay to have her reinstated in our 
caste.” 


The Tahsildar^s Sons 273 

half a lac of rupees,” sputtered Krishna Rao, 
“ it has all been arranged.” 

Do you demand that she be reinstated in your 
caste ? ” 

“ I expect — I hope ” 

I demand it,” vehemently cried his brother, “ in 
the name of the tahsildar! ” As he spoke Krishna 
Rao moved to his uncle’s side, and touched his 
shoulder. 

“ I demand it in the name of the tahsildar” qua- 
vered the aged uncle from his cushions. 

Sita’s counsel now asked of the court permission 
to introduce as evidence the letters written her by the 
witness, and the request being presently granted, 
said : — 

“ We have heard from the representatives of the 
tahsildar. From the letters we may learn the real 
sentiments of the plaintiff.” 

Mr. Chatter ji read a number of extracts, some of 
which follow: — 

‘‘ It is nonsense for women to have an education. 
Their business is to look after the house and the chil- 
dren, and that they can do without an education. 
Women are fools. . . . 

You ask if you will be privileged to re- 
main a Christian. It is a monstrous thought. 
I demand that you give up your silly woman’s 
notions of a new religion. My wife must be a 
Hindu.” 

Thik [correct],” commented Krishna Rao. 

But Ram Chandra was covered with confusion, and. 


274 


The Appeal 

before leaving the stand, he angrily stammered out 
something about a change of mind. 

He is as bad as his brother,” thought Sita, “ and 
less open. And if one must be a prisoner, to have a 
handsome jailer would bring small comfort.” 

With the closing of the evidence for the plaintiff, 
court adjourned. 

As the mission party were getting into their 
tongas, Krishna Rao, Ram Chandra, and their barris- 
ter passed. Krishna Rao was complaining, What 
sense is there in our spending all this time here ? This 
heat is unbearable and we might be sitting in our own 
house. We ought to have started with your woman 
yesterday. She shall pay for her obstinacy and for 
all the trouble she has caused us. What a look she 

gave me when I said — ^the bold-faced . We’ll 

teach her to cover her face when we get her home, 
the .” 

The younger brother said nothing, but Sita observed 
that he wore a dark frown. Her face was ashen 
and her lips set, but she quietly replied to Miss Ray’s 
talk of the hot winds, whose heightened colour indi- 
cated that she, too, had heard the foul, menacing 
words. 


IV 


MISS RAY ON THE STAND 

W HEN court resumed after tUfin [luncheon], 
the first witness for the defence, Miss Ray, 
was called. She wore a sheer white dress 
finished at the throat with a ribbon of pastel blue, 
which served to deepen the grey of her eyes and har- 
monized with the blue veins in her white forehead. 

Although it was three o’clock and the heat of the 
day, and of the season, had reached its maximum 
fierceness. Miss Ray manifested nothing of the general 
languor, but instead inspiriting courage and strength. 

Sita, as she looked into her friend’s face, drank in 
hope. She felt, too, that there was in her barrister’s 
voice, when after the administration of the oath he 
addressed the witness, a new note of confidence. 

Miss Ray, in answer to Mr. Chatter ji’s questions, 
gave an account of the manner in which the defendant 
had come under her charge, told something of her 
life in the orphanage, and spoke of the visits of her 
mother. 

Afterward the barrister asked : — 

How many years is it since the defendant came 
to you. Miss Ray ? ” 

It is seven years, Mr. Chatterji.” 

Of what age were the children when they came? ” 
375 


276 The Appeal 

‘‘ Sita said that she was nine and her brother five 
years old.” 

Did the girl appear to be of the age she gave? ” 
But for her statement I would have judged her 
age ten years.” 

‘‘ That is all,” announced Mr.Chatterji. 

The counsel for the plaintiff now entered upon his 
cross-examination, the important features of which 
were as follows: — 

‘‘ For what reason. Miss Ray,” he began, did you 
suppose that child to be of ten years when she was 
only of seven years? ” 

“ She was larger than the average Indian girl of 
ten and she showed a remarkable sense of responsi- 
bility in the care of her brother. She was well ad- 
vanced, too, in her studies. I have never known any 
child of seven or eight to manifest the intelligence 
shown by this little girl.” 

“ You say she was nine or ten years old? ” 

No, Mr. Prasad. What I say is, that I believe 
she must have been at least nine years of age, as she 
stated.” 

‘‘ Oh, you believe, that is it ? ‘ How easy is a bush 
supposed a bear! ’ as Shakespeare says. You believed 
the girl’s statement of her age. Miss Ray, not knowing 
that Hindu girls do not know their ages.” 

The witness proceeded with great quietness to an- 
swer the implied question, while Sita looked at her 
with sympathy, the tenseness in her face showing her 
interest in the establishment of the point in question. 
I am quite aware, Mr. Prasad, of the fact that 


277 


Miss Ray on the Stand 

birth records of girls of the lower castes are rarely 
kept, and that, as a rule, they do not know their ages. 
This I have learned in my ten years’ experience in this 
country as a teacher. But Sita was positive. Had 
she been less so, I should have placed her age on my 
records for the reasons I have given, at ten years.” 

The barrister, when Miss Ray spoke of the rarity 
of girls’ birth records among the lower castes half 
closed his eyes as he looked at her, a wary, questioning 
look on his face. 

It lasted but an instant, but in that instant Mr. Chat- 
ter ji had seen; and an almost imperceptible change 
came over his face, the shadow of a smile. This bright 
shadow Sita caught, and cognizant of the cause, be- 
came more confident. 

“ Girls neither know their ages nor the date of their 
birth,” the counsel for the plaintiff said blusteringly, 

and their testimony on this question is worthless, 
and of no account, absolutely and entirely worthless.” 

He went on with his interrogations, “ You 
admit. Miss Ray, that you refused to give up the de- 
fendant to her mother, though she came for her re- 
peatedly ? ” 

“ No,” she replied, looking at her interlocutor, ‘‘ I 
never refused to give her to her mother.” 

How many times did you see the defendant’s 
mother ? ” 

“ Once only.” 

“ Where were you when she was told that the girl 
was dead ? ” 

‘‘ I was here in Arampur, but was ill.” 


278 The Appeal 

“You admit, then, that you were here at that 
time?” The barrister’s manner and tone suggested 
that he was about to compel the witness to make a 
compromising admission. 

There was a slight flush upon Miss Ray’s face and 
her voice was lower than before, as she answered, “ I 
have said that I was here.” 

“ You — ah, your servants — ah, made a — a mistake, 
— a small and slight mistake, in telling the defendant’s 
mother that her children — both her children — were 
dead ? ” 

The witness explained that neither she nor her 
helpers had anything to do with the mistake. 

“ Indeed ? And you made every effort, no doubt, 
took infinite and extraordinary trouble to correct the 
mistake?” The barrister’s soft voice insinuated dis- 
belief. 

“ It was Mr. Gracie himself who discovered the 
error, and when he told me, I wrote at once to the 
little girl’s mother.” 

Miss Ray bowed to the judge as she spoke his name. 

“ That was kind. And when her mother came to 
you, you doubtless urged her to take her daughter 
home ? ” 

“ I did not.” 

“ Indeed, and may I ask why not, when you had 
taken such marked and extreme pains to correct the 
— the — ah — error ? ” 

“ One reason was that the girl was in school, and 
that at her home she could have no school privileges.” 

“ So that was the reason you refused to let her go 


Miss Ray on the Stand 279 

and not that you might make her a Christian and a 
pervert from her country’s religion?” 

The flush upon Miss Ray’s face deepened and her 
utterance was very distinct, and her voice, still pitched 
low as she said, looking straight at the barrister, I 
did not refuse to let her go, and she had then been 
with me two and a half years, and had been a Chris- 
tian for almost a year.” 

Mr. Prasad’s eyes fell before Miss Ray’s steadfast 
look. 

‘‘ Will you tell us, and explain to us, then. Miss 
Sahib, what you did do to keep this girl ? ” 

“ The arrangements were all made for her to go 
with Tulsiabai, when I asked them to reconsider the 
matter, and told them why I thought it would be well 
for the child to remain.” 

“ Wah ! Does it not seem to you a strange and 
incomprehensible thing that the lonely, sorrowful 
mother, who had been separated from her little 
daughter, her only daughter, for near three years, 
should agree to a farther long separation? And that 
a child should so lose her affection that she would 
willingly consent to such an unnatural arrange- 
ment ? ” 

It was remarkable, most remarkable. Never in 
my life have I been more surprised.” 

Indeed ? And how, may I ask, do you account for 
this marvellous and unprecedented phenomenon ? ” 

Miss Ray was silent a moment, then, with face 
alight, said in a tone that carried conviction : — 

“ I can account for it in but one way. It was God’s 


zSo The Appeal 

doing. God is able to do marvellous things. He had 
put into my heart a great love for this child, and a 
strong faith in her future; and He, at this time, I be- 
lieve, put into my mouth the words that I should say, 
and He prepared the hearts of Tulsiabai and her 
daughter, to receive my words.’' 

A solemn hush fell upon the little assembly, broken 
in a moment by the barrister. “ You believe, then, 
that your God is opposed to this marriage? ” 

Miss Ray instantly began to reply, I believe,” she 
said, then paused, a shade of perplexity crossing her 
face. When she did speak, it seemed to Sita that she 
had in some way changed her answer, but her manner 
was again confident. “ Certainly up to this time God 
has opposed the marriage.” 

“ There certainly has been opposition from some 
quarters. Can you deny that you refused to give up 
the defendant to her husband ? ” 

I refused ” 

‘‘ The witness admits refusing to give up the girl 
to her husband,” cried the barrister triumphantly. 

Mr. Chatter] i was about to speak when the witness 
said, “ No, Mr. Prasad, you misunderstand me. I 
admit refusing to give her up, upon Ram Chandra’s 
demand. I do not admit that he is her husband. 
Moreover, in that interview with you and the tahsil- 
dar’s elder son, I said that Sita should herself decide 
the matter and we arranged for a correspondence be- 
tween her and the plaintiff. The letters can be pro- 
duced.” 

“ It is of no consequence,” the barrister interrupted; 


Miss Ray on the Stand 281 

then he asked, why you do not recognize the shadi as 
binding?” 

“ The first ceremony, as I understand it, is not a 
real marriage, but a promise of marriage. Then mar- 
riage among Hindus is a caste affair, and the fact 
of the girl’s having become a Christian should annul 
the promise.” 

Ram Chandra’s face darkened and his brother mut- 
tered under his breath. 

After a whispered word to them the barrister 
questioned, “ Miss Ray, did you not know the defend- 
ant was married, when she came to you?” 

“ She told me so, and she wore the wedding brace- 
let, and had the shadi mark on her forehead.” 

“ Then why did you make her a Christian? ” 

‘‘ I could not, Mr. Prasad, make any one a Christian. 
Religion is not a matter, with us, of the kind of food 
or the manner of dress or of formal observances of 
any sort, but of faith. We teach the principles of 
our religion and preach Jesus, but each hearer must 
decide for himself whether or not he will accept as 
his Saviour the Saviour of the World.” 

“But you knew that this girl was married, that 
her husband might come for her ? Why, then, did you 
teach her your religion ? ” 

“ I hoped that her people would come for her, and 
her brother. Hundreds of children came into my 
hands during that terrible famine, many of them little 
children whose pitiful cries for their mothers in the 
lonely night-time will sound in my ears while I live. 
And when surviving parents came for their little ones. 


202 


The Appeal 

my heart was glad. When Tulsiabai came the first 
time, her daughter was still a Hindu, and her caste 
unbroken.’^ 

'' Achchha [good],’' some one said and several 
nodded their heads in approval. 

“ I had little expectation,” Miss Ray went on, after 
hearing Sita’s story, of ever hearing from the plain- 
tiff, and it was three years, yes, three and a half years 
after she came before he put in his claim for her. 
And as for teaching her religion, how could we teach 
other things and not the greatest thing of all ? ” 

Hindus are, above all things, religious; and in the 
silence that followed Sita felt that there was approval 
of the teachers’ course. 

The silence was broken by a whispered consultation 
between Ram Chandra and his barrister, then the lat- 
ter hesitatingly asked: — 

Do you not — ah — how much, — ah — what does the 
government pay you — how much apiece, for each 
convert to Christianity ? ” 

Here the judge sternly interposed, ‘‘ Whatever the 
ignorant may believe of that outrageous fabrication, 
educated men, Mr. Prasad, know that it is not true.” 

The barrister received the rebuke with humble 
apologies, ‘‘ Please forgive, your honour. I beg many 
pardons, your honour, — ^but — this — this word concern- 
ing missionaries has come to me many times.” 

It is false; the government is not concerned with 
mission work.” 

“ I will surely remember. I beg pardon for my 
deleterious and egregious blunder. Miss Ray, will 


Miss Ray on the Stand 283 

you kindly state another of your reasons for refusing 
to recognize this marriage ? ” 

It was a child-marriage. The marriage contract 
was arranged by the parents when the girl was only 
six years old.” 

‘‘ When the girl was four years old. By their 
parents of course. But your religion, I am told, does 
not honour age.” 

“ The Christian religion honours age but does not 
dishonour youth. Marriage, as we believe, is meant 
for adults and should not take place until the parties 
are old enough to decide for themselves, as they are 
the parties chiefly interested.” 

‘‘ So you think that the family and the caste com- 
munity are not vitally interested in marriage ? ” 

“Vitally interested, yes. But the community is 
best served by the perfecting of the individuals who 
make up the community.” 

“ You would have a man to live selfishly for him- 
self? You would have a man in his marriage to con- 
sider only himself? a woman to consider only her 
own wishes ? ” 

“ In any matter it is selfish to consider only one’s 
self. Yet each has a right to opportunities for the 
fullest development. It is, I believe, to the highest 
interest of the individual and therefore of the com- 
munity that in marriage the parties choose for them- 
selves.” 

“ Some, it seems, do not — ah — choose.” 

“ Some do not choose,” replied Miss Ray, only the 
tightening of her lips indicating that this shot had 


284 The Appeal 

told and had cruelly hurt, this reminder of the low 
esteem in which Hindus hold unmarried women. 

“ Some do not choose,’’ she repeated, “ and though 
marriage is natural and right for most women, to 
make it compulsory, as is done here in India, is to 
rob a woman of her paramount inalienable right, is 
to make of her a slave of the lowest order. A woman 
is first of all a human being, and should be allowed 
to marry or not according to her own choice. 

There is a place,” she went on, “ and a work for 
every one. Mine is with the girls God has given me 
to train. Most women find their places in their own 
homes, but every woman, whether married or not, 
should do what she can to make the world happier 
and better, and in the history of civilization no one 
has done more to make the whole world homelike than 
one who lived her life unmarried, Frances Willard.” 

Some of those present had not heard of Frances 
Willard. But Miss Ray herself was well known and 
appreciated in the town and vicinity because of her 
several schools for their daughters as well as on 
account of her famine relief work. And in spite of 
the fact that Mr. Prasad had gone out of his way in 
his cross-examination to lessen the marked respect 
which was accorded her, she had come out of each 
contest with increased weight of respect. So Sita 
felt, and her heart was singing its joy. 

But the barrister was to make one more effort. He 
now asked : — 

“As to this marriage. Miss Ray, your scruples 
would doubtless be removed by the payment of the 


Miss Ray on the Stand 285 

money you have expended on the defendant. The 
tahsildar stands ready to make you a gift of three 
thousand rupeees — for your schools, of course.” 

Miss Ray looked at her interlocutor for an instant, 
then answered: — 

“ It has twice occurred in our orphanage when a 
parent of a half orphan has given us a child, and 
afterwards asked to have her back, that we have 
received from him the cost of her maintenance. But 
those were little girls and this is a different matter. 
From the tahsildar I will accept neither three thousand 
nor a lac of rupees. My Sita’s happiness is not for 
sale.” 


V 


THE ASTROLOGER 

T he heat and the crowd had made the court- 
room unbearable and the judge now an- 
nounced a short recess during which the win- 
dows were opened. The hot wind poured in, increas- 
ing the heat, indeed, but purifying the air. Those 
who had brought sarais of water, among them the 
missionaries, drank thirstily; but those who were un- 
provided hurried outside and drank with eagerness, 
while a water carrier filled their lotas or poured into 
their hands a stream of life-giving water. 

Ram Chandra’s great-uncle, who had been asleep 
among his cushions, now awakened with a loud yawn, 
and, stretcKing himself, plaintively called for water. 

Sita heard and observed that the young man who 
had started out called out to the attendant, “Wait on 
him,” and then hastened with his brother and barrister 
to the next room. Following the group with her eyes, 
she saw Krishna Rao put something in his mouth, 
while his brother protested angrily. 

Again when she looked she saw her solicitor in con- 
sultation with Abdul Khan. To her annoyance he 
had been in constant attendance upon the trial. She 
now inquired of Mr. Chatter ji as to who he was. 

“ He fs the brother of your solicitor and is much 
286 


The Astrologer 287 

interested in the case. It was he who discovered that 
your mother had left the town.” 

Sita was at first distressed to learn that she had 
for an aid such a man, but presently remembered his 
quarrel with Ram Chandra, and his threat. “ It is for 
revenge,” she thought, ‘‘but I wish I had no such 
aid.” 

After the recess the counsel for the defence recalled 
as the next witness the purohit. 

“You are, I understand, an astrologer as well as 
a priest?” 

“ I am.” The witness spoke with pride, his head 
thrown back beyond the perpendicular. In spite of 
the heat he appeared cool in his white drapery. 

“ What have you to say, purohit- ji, as to the age 
of the defendant? Do you know her age?” 

“ I know. She is of fourteen years.” 

“ What was her age when the shadi took place ? ** 

“ She was of four years.” 

“ What can you say definitely in regard to the plain- 
tiff's family giving aid to the family of the de- 
fendant ? ” 

“ Ram Chandra's father gave money several times.” 

“ Can you mention any of the times ? ” 

“ Remembrance is not.” 

“ Surely out of a number of times you can remem- 
ber one or two ? ” 

“ He sends the boy to school.” 

“Yes. What else? Try to remember what Ram 
Chandra's father did for the family. Are you sure 
he gave them money ? Do you know it ?” 


288 


The Appeal 

‘‘ I know it. I was present.’" 

“ When were you present? On what occasion? ” 

“ Remembrance is not.” 

“ Think a little, purohit-ji. You are so positive 
about the matter. Surely there will come to you some 
remembrance of the circumstances.” 

Mr. Chatter ji fixed his keen eyes on the face of 
the witness, who looked persistently toward Ram 
Chandra. 

Sita, following his gaze, saw that he was tensely 
alert. His uncle nodded uneasily. She looked toward 
Krishna Rao and saw that he was fast asleep, his 
head resting on the back of his chair. “ It was 
opium that he took. I thought so,” she said to her- 
self. 

“ Purohit-ji,” said the barrister, after further par- 
ley, and he waited until the eyes of the witness met 
his, then held his gaze with his own, Purohit-ji,” 
he repeated, doing kindness, allow me to remind 
you that there is a very great difference between giv- 
ing money and paying money, and to call payment of 
money a gift is nothing less than jhuti sakshi [per- 
jury].” 

“ I protest; this is threatening and intimidation 
and against a holy man,” the plaintiff’s counsel 
interrupted. 

“ Your honour,” Mr. Chatter ji replied, turning to 
the judge, “ I protest against this charge. Intimida- 
tion has for its purpose to deter from speaking the 
truth, and my sole aim is to assist the memory of 
this holy man in order to bring out the truth.” 


The Astrologer 289 

The court does not understand that the counsel for 
the defendant has used intimidation/’ the judge de- 
clared. 

Mr. Chatter ji continued his cross-examination: — ■ 
Doing favour, purohit-ji, answer me this question: 
was the money the plaintiff’s father gave to the de- 
fendant’s father in the nature of a gift, or was it pay- 
ment for property ? ” 

The priest’s face had darkened with anger and he 
did not at once make answer. 

‘‘ It — part was payment,” he said presently. 

‘‘For what purpose?” 

“ For cattle. The tahsildar bought some of the 
pandit’s cattle when he could find no purchaser,” 

“ Anything else ? ” 

“ For— fields.” 

“Anything else?” 

“ Remembrance is not.” 

“ You say part was payment. What was the other 
part?” 

“ Part was gifts.” 

“ How much was the gift money, and on what 
occasion was it paid?” 

“ Remembrance is not.” 

“ Doing favour, purohit-ji, endeavour to remem- 
ber; the plaintiff’s barrister has made a point of the 
tahsilda/s generosity. So far his generosity has ap- 
peared in a peculiar light, as one who took advantage 
of his friend in time of famine to secure his property 
at a nominal price. Have you anything further to 
say?” 


290 


The Appeal 

After a silence the astrologer replied, ‘‘ I remem- 
ber — one time — the gift was a hundred rupees/^ 

“ When was that given ? ” 

“ When the girl's father was ill." 

“Was it before she left home?" 

“ Yes." 

“ How long before? " 

“ Eight, ten days." 

“ Were you present and did you see Ram Chandra's 
father give the defendant’s father one hundred 
rupees ? " 

“ I was present and I saw." 

Did you see the defendant’s father take the 
money? " 

The witness was silent. After a repetition of the 
question, he answered, “ I saw the tahsildar offer him 
the money." 

“ Did you see the girl’s father receive the money? " 

“ I — I — remembrance is not." The priest looked 
in the direction of Ganga Prasad, his eyes snapping 
with anger. 

“ For what purpose was the gift? " 

“ Some proposal about the shadi. Remembrance is 
not. But the boy’s father offered the girl’s father a 
present of a hundred rupees." 

“ This handsome present pleased the sick man, no 
doubt?" 

“ No, the ingrate was angry." 

“ He was angry, yet he agreed to the proposal and 
received the money?" 

“ I object, this is intimidation and persecution," 


The Astrologer 291 

cried the counsel for the plaintiff, but without effect 
upon the judge. 

“ Remembrance is not.” The witness’s face was 
bathed in perspiration. 

“ Did he receive the money? ” 

“ It — it is not known to me.” 

“ Did you see him take the money ? ” 

“ I was not looking continually.” 

‘‘ Did you see him take the money ? ” 

‘‘ I — did not see,” the witness answered with hesi- 
tation and a glance at Krishna Rao, whose angry 
mutterings Ganga Prasad made obvious efforts to 
restrain. 

‘‘Why did the defendant leave home?” 

“ It is not known to me.” 

“ You say that you are an astrologer. Are you 
the officiating priest in the family of the defendant’s 
people ? ” 

“ I am.” 

“ Were you the officiating astrologer in the family 
in the time of the Pandit Janak ? ” 

“ I was. I cast his horoscope.” 

“ And did you cast the horoscope for his children? ” 
“ I did for his sons.” 

“Did you caste the horoscope for his daughter?” 
“ I did not.” 

“ It is many years, perhaps you may recall ” 

“ I cast no horoscope for the girl.” 

“ Are you sure then about her age? ” 

“ Sure. She is of fourteen years.” 

“ Do you know her age when she left home? ” 


292 


The Appeal 

‘‘ She was of seven years.” 

She was then seven years old, when the tahsildar 
made his proposition. About this proposition we 
will learn more presently. Now, purohit-ji, will you 
tell the court whether or not it is the custom for a 
Rajput girl of seven years to go to live in the house 
of her father-in-law ? ” 

The rasping of the pankha rope grew loud in the 
silence, while the perspiration streamed from the face 
of the witness as he looked in vain for aid from the 
plaintiff’s barrister. 

‘‘ It — it is not unknown, and in some parts of the 
country ” 

‘‘ It is a sad fact, but do you know of any such 
case in Central Provinces?” 

“ I knew a case where the father was dead, where 
the girl was about that age.” 

‘‘ One case — ^and tiie girl ‘ about that age.’ That 
will do.” 

The day’s work ending with a word from Mr. Chat- 
ter ji as its finishing touch, left Sita strong in hope. 
In marked contrast with the depression of the previous 
afternoon and the anxious strain of the morning was 
the confident uplift of her mood. And as they drove 
homeward the droning beat of the tamtams well- 
nigh escaped her notice. 

When, on alighting from the tonga at the bungalow, 
she made her salaams to Miss Ray she attributed the 
unfading flush upon her cheeks to nothing more than 
excitement. Then, too, when Sita had first known 


The Astrologer 293 

her, the teacher’s cheeks had been habitually rosy, and 
so her colour now did not strike her as unnatural. 

But when, early in the evening, Dr. Doran came to 
her with the word that Miss Ray would retire at once, 
the girl’s heart for a moment misgave her. She 
brightened, however, when the doctor told her she 
had brought for her a good-night message, and 
an invitation to come to her room early in the 
morning. 

It is all right,” Sita said, ‘‘ she surely needs rest 
to-night. But, oh, I hope this heat will not make her 
ill.” 

It will be best for her to save her strength for 
to-morrow, ' triumph day,’ she calls it.” 

“ Triumph day it will be,” the girl answered with a 
confident smile. 

Prayer time that evening was a little prolonged. 
The Bible verses recited were concerning courage and 
confidence and several of the girls prayed for their 
comrade. 

After this she went with several of them to the 
bungalow, to join the missionaries and the pandita in 
the evening songs, and again there were prayers for 
Sita. When a number of songs had been sung she 
asked for “ The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” 

“ The music was left at Miss Ashton’s,” replied 
Miss Vernon. 

“ I could play it,” said Miss Harmon, if we had 
the words.” 

“ I think I can repeat most of the words,” Sita 
stated, and then after a moment’s thought, her face 


294 The Appeal 

changing expression, indicating her appreciation, she 
recited. 


“ Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, 

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath 
are stored, 

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword, 
His truth is marching on. 

“ I have seen Him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps. 
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and 
damps, 

I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps. 
His day is marching on. 

“ I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel. 

As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall 
deal. 

Let the Hero born of woman crush the serpent with his heel. 
Since God is marching on. 

“ He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat. 
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him, be jubilant, my feet. 

Our God is marching on. 

“ In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea. 
With the glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me ; 

As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free. 
While God is marching on.” 

At the conclusion of the song Sita went out into 
the orphanage compound, where she remained until 
bedtime walking among the trees. 


VI 


TULSIABArS TESTIMONY 

T he next morning when Sita awoke, the words 
of the hymn seemed still sounding in her ears 
and the keynote of her morning prayer was, 
‘‘ Be swift, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my 
feet!’^ 

When a little later she went to Miss Ray’s room. 
Dr. Doran met her on the veranda, to tell her the 
fact that could no longer be kept from her, that Miss 
Ray had been quite ill with fever. She was, however, 
now free from fever, and sleeping, the doctor said 
comfortingly, and would see Sita when she woke. 

A half hour later Miss Ray called and the girl 
went to her. 

Miss Sahib-ji, mama-ji,” she said with a 
quiver in her voice as she looked at the white drawn 
face. 

“ Salaam, Sitabai,” answered her teacher, and the 
' bai ’ steadied the girl, — ‘‘ I am all right now, dear, 
I have had no fever for several hours, and I have 
slept, so I shall be in fine shape for the kacheri, never 
fear.” 

“ But you ought not to go out in the sun. You 
ought to be in bed to-day.” 

I am able to go, and I must not fail you to-day 
295 


296 The Appeal 

of all days. God willing, daughter, I will stay with 
you through it all.” 

‘‘ Beloved mama-ji, I don’t know how I could do 
without you, but — you must not go unless the doctor 
says so.” 

“ She has consented.” 

Mama-ji,” Sita said presently, “ do you know that 
I have seen my mother and I think she will be on my 
side? ” 

The young girl sat by the bedside of her friend and 
from her smile drank in courage while they held each 
other’s hand and talked. Miss Ray said at last: — 
Have no fear, daughter, of what is before you 
to-day. This promise is for you : I will give you in 
that day the words that you should speak/ ” 

When the mission party reached the kacheri at 
eleven o’clock they saw with surprise that there 
were standing in groups about the building, a crowd 
of perhaps three hundred men. Mr. Ashley, meeting 
the tonga, remarked Miss Ray’s pallor and hurried 
the party inside. There they found waiting a number 
of missionaries, including Mr. and Mrs. Ashley. All 
greeted Sita cheerily. 

‘‘ We came,” Mrs. Ashley said, smiling, ‘‘ to put you 
in heart. But I see you don’t need us.” 

“ Indeed, I am truly grateful for your coming. 
Your presence and your hopeful faces help me more 
than I can say.” 

Mr. Chatter ji here joined the group bringing with 
him Siva Charan, Anjit Rao, and a stranger, Mr. 
Muzoomdar, a Par see, from Bombay. 


Tulsiabai’s Testimony 297 

After greetings were exchanged the latter said to 
Sita, ‘‘ I am proud indeed to meet a young woman 
so brave as to take the stand you have taken, and I 
hope, I strongly desire, daughter, that you will win 
your case/' 

“ Your hope is my hope.” 

The Parsee after some conversation with the mis- 
sionaries began conversing with Mr. Chatter ji and 
other native gentlemen. 

This is the Hindu woman’s friend,” observed the 
pandita. “ It was he who took the initiation in the 
child-marriage reform movement which resulted in 
the making the minimum marriageable age of girls 
twelve instead of ten years. He went to England 
several times to place the matter before the British 
people.” 

“ I have heard many times,” Sita answered, looking 
at the Parsee. He was asking Mr. Chatter ji about 
the chances of the case. 

The chances are good,” was the reply, “ we have a 
strong case and an excellent man for judge.” 

“ She would have no chance at all with a Hindu 
judge.” 

“ None, unless he were one of the few reformers.” 

‘‘ Hindus would consider it divorce, and they would 
not grant a wife divorce or even separation on any 
grounds whatever.” 

“ There have been cases,” answered Mr. Chatter ji, 
decided in favour of the girl, by English judges.” 
Then he said something about the judges fearing to 
antagonize the people. 


298 The Appeal 

“ The people are illiterate and fools/’ cried An jit 
Rao, the editor of The Indian World. 

'' True talk. We must depend upon the educated,” 
assented Siva Charan. 

“If our learned men,” Mr. Chatter ji said, “ were 
not so timid and if they had less prejudice against 
Western ideas, and would co-operate with the 
missionaries, the problem would be the sooner 
solved.” 

“ Co-operation, that is what we need,” replied Mr. 
Muzoomdar. “ Co-operation of all with the mission- 
aries and with all the friends of social reform.” 

“ The government could easily make a law to raise 
the age to sixteen at once,” cried Siva Charan. 

“ The government should keep hands off,” pro- 
tested An jit Rao. “ This is no matter for govern- 
ment interference. Our people will not stand it. The 
reform must come from within, from our educated 
Hindus.” 

“ But reformation,” Mr. Chatter ji went on to say, 
“ is a slow process anywhere and must be especially 
so in India, unless our people will put aside their 
prejudices, and make common cause with the mis- 
sionaries and the government officials.” 

“ That is it,” said the Parsee, “ united effort is the 
great thing. Your paper, Mr. Editor, is doing great 
service.” 

“ Oh, thank you,” Anjit Rao responded deprecat- 
ingly. “ I fear we are perhaps not doing very much. 
But my friends are good enough and kind enough 
to give me much praise, too much praise.” 


Tulsiabai’s Testimony 299 

“ Who are those men coming in ? '' inquired the 
Parsee. 

“ They are the tahsildar^s sons, the one in that scar- 
let vest is representing the father of the plaintiff in 
the case; the younger is the plaintiff, and the other 
is his barrister/’ 

That thundercloud the plaintiff? I hope he won’t 
get that fine girl.” 

“ I hope so, too,” said the editor. 

‘‘ I am glad you appreciate the situation, gentle- 
men,” said Mr. Chatter ji. Then, turning to the 
editor, ‘‘ But it is not the girls you plead for in your 
advocacy of a riper age for marriage.” 

“ No, that is a minor consideration. I take the 
men on the practical side, urging immature mother- 
hood as the cause of the physical degeneracy of our 
people.” 

‘‘ Yes, the selfish side is the practical side, and it 
is wonderful how that argument is winning its 
way.” 

Mr. Stafford and Mr. Ashley joined the group, and 
Mr. Chatter ji seized the opportunity of speaking to 
Sita. 

I am glad to see you so brave this morning.” 

I have no fear now. Does not the Lord reign ? ” 

‘‘ Keep that spirit. And let me warn you again not 
to let the tactics of the opposing barrister bring a 
shadow to your face. He will say ugly things, but re- 
member that he thinks nothing about you personally, 
and cares only to win his case. In your replies re- 
member that you, to-day, represent India’s daughters, 


300 The Appeal 

India’s women, struggling for their liberty, and tiny 
girls too weak to struggle.” 

‘‘ And remember,” said Mr. Ashley, who had ap- 
proached while they talked, “ remember that to-day 
you stand for the Christ, and against Hinduism, and 
that in God’s own time His Son must conquer the 
world.” 

The words brought to Sita’s mind the words of the 
song, “ He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall 
never call retreat, our God is marching on.” 

Here Judge Gracie entered the room and Sita noted 
with concern that he wore an anxious expression, 
which, however, disappeared as he bowed to acquaint- 
ances. 

Sita was just entering the courtroom, when, look- 
ing back she saw her mother come in. She hurried 
toward her and whispered, “ So glad, so glad, my 
mother, dear”; then rejoined Miss Ray. 

“ The next witness we have to examine,” Mr. 
Chatterji began after the opening of court, is 
Tulsiabai.” 

Ganga Prasad, upon hearing this announcement, 
lost, for the first time, his air of assurance, and he 
and his clients whispered and glowered menacingly 
upon the woman as she entered the room. But the 
veiled woman did not see. There was no sound, this 
time, of tinkling bells, for Tulsiabai was now attended 
by her son only. 

“ Now, Tulsiabai,” Mr. Chatterji’s voice was kind 
and respectful, ‘‘ we shall have to ask you a few ques- 
tions, but shall not be long. Give direct answers, and 


Tulsiabai’s Testimony 301 

do not be afraid. Will you please tell us, Tulsiabai, 
why you started to return home night before last, 
when I had said I wished to question you ? 

‘‘ I — he — ^they sent me.” 

Who sent you ? ” 

“ The sons of the tahsildar” 

Krishna Rao muttered angrily. 

‘‘ ‘ The sons of the tahsildar/ ” repeated Mr. Chat- 
ter ji, looking at the judge. “No doubt they had good 
reasons. Now, Tulsiabai, will you tell why your son 
and daughter left home during the famine? ” 

“ Barrister-ji,” she replied, a note of pain coming 
into her voice, “ their father was ill a long time. 
Until many months he was unable to cause the boys 
to read, and we became very poor. For this we sent 
our children away to get food.” 

“ Did not Pandit Janak own a house and fields? ” 

“ Ji, and sheep, and five cows.” 

“ What became of your cattle and lands? ” 

“ We sold them. We could not feed the cattle 
after the first year of famine.” 

“ To whom did you sell them? ” 

“ To the father, — ^to the tahsildar” the witness said 
after a little hesitation. 

“ All of them?” 

“Ji-” 

“ And did not the sale of the cattle and fields bring 
you enough to buy food ? ” 

“For a time; but fields have little value in famine 
times, and the cattle brought almost nothing.” 

“And then?” 


302 


The Appeal 

“ When only one cow and the food of twenty days 
remained, we sent away the boy and the girl. We kept 
the littlest.’’ The pain left the woman’s voice as she 
spoke of the son at her side. 

‘‘Of what age was the little one when you sent the 
other children away?” 

“ He was of three years, barrister-ji.” 

“ And the other son, the one who went with his 
sister, how old was he? ” 

“ It was Mohan Lai who went away — ^to return no 
more. He was of five years, almost. He came to 
us in the rains.” 

“ How old was your daughter when she went 
away ? ” 

“ She was of nine years.” 

“ Lying word,” Krishna Rao muttered repeatedly. 

“ It is nothing,” Mr. Prasad said to him in 
an audible undertone. “ To whom are girls’ ages 
known? ” 

When the judge had demanded order, Mr. Chat- 
ter] i asked: “Did you have only the three children, 
mother of Janak Ram?” 

“ We had four, but the other quickly passed away.” 

“ Was this child a boy or a girl ? ” 

“ A boy, our first son.” 

“ How old was your daughter when this son was 
born? ” 

“ She was then of two years.” 

“ A question, please,” said Ganga Prasad. “ How 
do you know her age ? Do you remember it ? ” 

“ I know well. Our first born, though a daughter. 


Tulsiabai’s Testimony 303 

was a welcome child, and her father had her horo- 
scope cast, and we had a big dinner every year on 
the day of her birth.” 

The astrologer sat where Sita could see him and 
a perturbed expression, she fancied, rested for a 
moment on his face. 

“ And where,” the barrister inquired brusquely, 
“ where is this horoscope ? ” 

'' Hai, hdi! Word of sorrow! It is not known 
to me. We kept it in a little brass box, but when her 
father was ill it disappeared. I have asked for the 
records, but found nothing.” 

“ Ah ! Are you sure that the horoscope was not a 
figment of your imagination? ” 

“ I am sure. The — it was consulted before the 

shadi was decided on.” 

“ Wah ! Among girls it is only daughters of priests 
and kings who have horoscopes cast. That is a 
wonderful and marvellous tale you have told us, a 
dream, a vision, no doubt. And, mother of Janak 
Ram, you know the exact lime of this girl’s birth, 
and how old she was when each of her brothers were 
born, and, at the same time, of her shadi, and her 
leaving home? Wah! It is highly probable for an 
illiterate woman. But pardon! Perhaps you are 
learned ? ” 

The brow-beating barrister waited. 

Like one detected in a crime, Tulsiabai replied with 
anxious hesitancy, I — I used to read.” 

'' Are! This is indeed a surprise ! It is small won- 
der, then, that you are a widow.” The lawyer’s 


304 The Appeal 

allusion was to the old Hindu belief that if a woman 
learn to read, her husband will die. 

Tulsiabai shivered and swayed as from a blow. 
Janak Ram frowned at the barrister and stepped 
nearer to his mother’s side. 

‘‘ Mother,” said Sita softly. 

Tulsiabai now stood firmly though her voice 
trembled as she answered, It is not true. That did 
not cause his death. He wished me to read and it 
was he himself taught me.” 

‘‘ Wah ! trouble always comes to learned women.” 

Mr. Chatterji now went on with his cross-examina- 
tion. 

“ To what caste do you belong, Tulsiabai? ” 

“ I am a Rajputni.” 

“ And Pandit Janak, was he of the same caste? ” 

“ He was a Rajput of the purest blood; he was 
of the line of King Janak.” 

“ Good. Now, will you tell me who compared your 
daughter’s horoscope with that of the plaintiff to 
determine whether or not the signs were auspicious 
for their marriage.” 

It — it was an astrologer.” 

“ Certainly. But what is the name of that astrolo- 
ger?” 

The witness was silent, and the trembling of the 
hand which hung at her side became more pro- 
nounced. 

“ Is the astrologer now present ? ” asked the barris- 
ter after several unsuccessful attempts to elicit a 
reply. 


Tulsiabai’s Testimony 305 

But the counsel for the plaintiff objected to the 
question and the judge sustained the objection. 

He, however, told the witness that she need not 
fear and that it was necessary that she give the desired 
information. And thus urged, she finally admitted 
that Ram Dev was the man. 

“ Lying talk,’’ cried Krishna Rao. 

And the astrologer, when Sita looked in his direc- 
tion, glared at her in a way that made her doubt the 
judge’s statement to her mother that she need have 
no fear. 

‘‘ Now, about the pandit, Tulsiabai. How long 
did he live after the children left home? *’ 

“ About four months.” 

“ Did you, during this time, have enough to eat ? ” 
Enough to keep us alive, the boy and me. Ram 
Janak’s father’s brothers helped us or we should have 
all died.” 

Did Pandit Janak’s appetite keep good ? Did his 
food please him? ” 

“ After we had sold our land, he said he could not 
eat. I thought then, it was disease, but afterwards I 
knew in my heart that it was because there was 
not enough for us all that he refused to eat. 
He died that I and our children might remain 
alive.” 

Ram Janak’s chin quivered and for a moment he 
turned his back upon the assembly. 

Sita buried her face in her hands. 

‘‘Did no one help you?” Mr. Chatterji questioned 
in a husky voice, after a short silence. 


3o6 


The Appeal 

“ Ram Janak’s uncles helped us, but they, too, had 
lost most of their property and could do but little. 

“ Did no one else help you? ’’ 

No one.” 

‘‘ Lying talk ! My father helped,” Krishna Rao 
interrupted wrathfully. 

“ Order in court,” the judge commanded. 

Krishna Rao and Ganga Prasad consulted in a whis- 
per, then the latter asked permission to put a question 
to the witness. His request being granted, he inquired 
in an insistent, persuasive manner, ‘‘ Mother of Ram 
Janak, do you not remember the tahsildar's kind- 
ness to your son and his kind offer to Ram Janak’s 
father? ” 

“ He has sent Ram Janak to school.” 

‘‘ What else ? ” 

“ Nothing else.” 

“ Think, woman. You can remember well enough 
what the missionaries did. It is a fine tale you 
tell about leaving your daughter in the mission to 
study.” 

‘‘ Her father wished her to become learned, and 
she ” 

“ What did Miss Ray give you that she might keep 
your daughter? ” 

“Not anything. She has fed my daughter and 
clothed her, and educated her all these years, — it is 
for me to give her money.” 

“ Can you deny that your daughter has given you 
money? ” 

“ I have no wish to deny it.” 


Tulsiabai’s Testimony 307 

Wah ! So the missionaries gave her the money to 
give you! It is all one. How much did she give 
you ? 

“ She gave me, the first time I went to Arampur, 
a silver piece of char anna [four annas], all she had, — 
and I have never spent it; I have it still.’' 

‘‘ What else?” 

The sari I am wearing.” 

“ Indeed ? And when did she give you that ? ” 

“ Six months since, — after the first trial.” 

“ And what did she give you this time ? ” 

“ Not anything.” 

“ Now tell me what Miss Ray has given you? ” 

Nothing^ at all.” 

Some witnesses have convenient memories. Try 
now to remember what Ram Chandra’s father did.” 

“ Not anything.” 

Surely you can remember the magnificent gift, one 
hundred rupees, which Ram Chandra’s father gave to 
the girl’s father before she left home.” 

I have not forgotten.” The timid note passed 
from the voice of the witness, and she spoke with 
marked dignity and firmness. “ I have not forgotten 
the offer he made. It was an offer that her father 
could not accept.” 

‘‘ Why not?” 

“ Her father believed child-marriage a bad custom, 
and he made a contract when the marriage was ar- 
ranged that she should not go to the house of her 
father-in-law before she was of twelve years. This 
is according to law, but ” 


3o 8 The Appeal 

Never mind extraneous and outside matters, tell 
about the gift.” 

‘‘ It was according to law, but this law was then 
new and some of our caste people did not obey it. 
The tahsildar did not favour the law. When Ram 
Janak’s father was ill — after he had lost everything — 
he came to him about the marriage.” 

“ Who came?” 

‘‘ Ram Chandra’s father.” 

“ And the tahsildar gave him a hundred rupees ? ” 

He offered the little girl’s father a hundred 
rupees on the condition that he would consent for 
her to go at once to live in his family.” 

A gift of one hundred rupees! Think of it. 
Who could forget such generosity and magnanimity ? ” 
and the barrister sat down. 

“ Tulsiabai, what did the Pandit Janak say to 
the tahsildar' s proposal? ” asked Mr. Chatterji. 

“ He had fever that day and he became agitated. 
‘ My daughter,’ he said, ‘ has not reached the legal 
marriage age and she is not to go to your house until 
she does ’ ; and then Ram Chandra’s father said, ‘ That 
is no matter. You can swear that she is of twelve 
years, the Sirkar has no right to change our marriage 
laws which are thousands of years old. Ten years 
has been our law and Sita is far past nine, and a fine 
large girl, she is as large as any Angrezi [English] 
girl of nine years.’ ” Tulsiabai stopped a moment, then 
continued, “ Ram Janak’ s father sat right up in bed. 
Great fear struck me when I saw him so excited. His 
eyes shone with the brightness of fever and he spoke 


Tulsiabai^s Testimony 309 

with great force. ‘ And what would a Sahib say if a 
man proposed to marry his nine-year>old daughter? 
He would think him [crazy]. Angrezi-log [Eng- 
lish people] do not marry off their daughters until 
they are of eighteen years or more. They would think 
a girl nine or ten better dead than married. And 
they are quite right, too. Child-marriage is an 
abominable custom, and I told you so when we made 
the sliadi. We Hindus are pagal to ruin our girls by 
marrying them off when they are mere children; it 
ruins the girls, and it ruins the race.’ ” 

‘‘ And then what happened ? ” questioned Mr. Chat- 
ter] i, after waiting a moment. 

“ The tahsildar said : ‘ It is not marriage that is 
proposed, but only that the girl shall live in my 
house.’ And then Ram Janak’s father said : ‘ It is 
all one and you know it.’ Here the tahsildar grew 
very angry. ‘ If you mean to imply,’ he said, ‘ that 

my cousin’s wife did not die of cholera !’ But 

Ram Janak’s father interrupted : ‘ I mean that you 
could not protect my little daughter, — ’ and with his 
voice very low, he spoke straight to the tahsildar. ^ I 
will not consent for my daughter to be married or to 
visit your house a day before she is of twelve years — 
not if we all starve.’ ” 

The rasping of the pankha rope was the only sound 
heard in the courtroom. 

Mr. Chatter] i broke the silence with the question: — 
‘‘ What answer did the tahsildar make ? ” 

“ He said ‘ Starve then,’ and he went away cursing. 
He never came again.” 


VII 


SITA SPEAKS FOR HERSELF 

D uring the recess which followed Tulsiabai’s 
testimony, a richly appareled chaprassi en- 
tered the courtroom, and, the crowd making 
way, walked haughtily to the judge’s desk, when, 
salaaming low, he delivered to him a letter. 

Mr. Chatter ji studied the judge’s face as he read 
until its perplexity was reflected in his own. Twice 
the judge stopped and looked out of a window at the 
crowd. The barrister followed his glance, then spoke 
with the solicitor, who immediately left the room. 

These things Sita saw unheeding, for her mind was 
upon her mother’s words. She remained so occupied 
until she heard her name. Her solicitor was talking 
with his brother back of the mission group. 

“ She will speak at once,” he said in an undertone, 
“ and if you go outside you’ll lose your place. Those 
college boys are crowding in.” 

“ Then I’ll stick it out, though I am dying of thirst,” 
she heard Abdul Khan reply. 

Sita felt neither the heat nor the thirst, but she 
drank freely of the water passed her; then, as order 
was recalled, responded to the pressure of Miss Ray’s 
hand. At the same instant her solicitor took his seat 
by his chief, as he said: — 

310 


Sita Speaks for Herself 31 1 

The letter was from the Chief Commissioner. He 
is now in the adjoining tahsil/' 

Sita was now called to the stand, and with a touch 
of Miss Ray’s hand and a look into Kamliabai’s face, 
took her place. She wore a light-coloured cotton skirt 
and jacket, over which, almost concealing the dress, 
was gracefully draped a fresh sari of white mull. Her 
only ornaments were a half dozen silver bangles of 
Indian workmanship. Upon her feet were low leather 
shoes. Her style of dress, with the exception of her 
shoes, did not differ noticeably from that of her Hindu 
sisters. Hindu women do not, as a rule, wear 
shoes; and leather shoes are among the orthodox, 
taboo. 

Her face was unveiled and, as she felt the gaze of 
the crowd, hostile for the most part, centred upon 
her, her heart misgave her, and with ashen face she 
cast her eyes upon the floor. 

However, when a Bible was given her upon which 
to make her oath, she clasped it in both her hands 
and, without a tremor in her voice, responded with 
marked solemnity. The ordeal of the trial had given 
to Sita added womanliness, and she had never looked 
more beautiful or more a king’s daughter, than when, 
still holding the book, she raised her eyes and allowed 
herself to meet, for an instant, the gaze of her be- 
trothed. His brow was clouded, but in that instant 
there came into his face a startled look, a realization, 
she thought, of the gulf that lay between them. 

“ Tell your story, Sitabai, in your own way,” Mr. 
Chatter ji requested. 


312 


The Appeal 

‘‘Ji/’ she replied, with a glance about the room, 
which revealed to her that there were present, includ- 
ing the college boys, about twenty of her friends. 

Then, looking at the mission group, she began. She 
spoke quietly and simply of her happy home life, of 
her marriage, of the famine, of her father’s illness and 
misfortunes; of her journey to Arampur with her 
brother; of his death; of the long waiting time for 
word from her sick father; of her mother’s first com- 
ing, and her own sore grief over the false report that 
had left her desolate and sent her mother away sorrow- 
ing. The girl retained her self-command throughout 
the recital of her story, while only the sympathetic 
glance at her mother and brother, who still remained 
in the room, and the modulations of her voice, evi- 
denced the depth of its meaning to her. When she 
came to speak of her life in the orphanage, and of the 
school in Arampur and in Calcutta, a slight smile 
brightened her face, as she looked at Miss Ray and the 
pandita. 

‘‘ Did your father send you to the mission orpha- 
nage ? ” questioned Ganga Prasad, when she had con- 
cluded. 

No, barrister-ji. He knew about it and told me 
it was a good place; but we were not orphans, and 
he expected to get well and to take us home in a few 
weeks. For this reason he sent us to the relief works 
of the Sirkar; I expected to do coolie work to sup- 
port my brother,” 

‘‘ Did you do coolie work? ” 

“ I did not. My brother was ill and Miss Ray said 


Sita Speaks for Herself 313 

it was not necessary for me to work. She said that 
I was a little girl, and my brother needed me. I 
thought my father — I mean some day to pay back 
the Sirkar and the mission.” 

“ What did Miss Ray have to do with the govern- 
ment relief work? ” 

“ When we went she had charge of all the famine 
children — the girls. The year before, the Sirkar had 
so much relief work that they had to send many of the 
girls and boys out to the jungle during the day with 
only a servant to look after them; and so Miss Ray 
offered to look after the girls until the end of the 
famine.” 

How many Christians did she make among the 
government wards ? ” 

‘‘ Not one. She did not teach us her religion but 
looked after our food and clothing and gave us good 
talk. I asked her one day to tell me about her reli- 
gion, but she said that she could not; that the Sirkar 
prohibited it.” 

“ Good talk,” several commented in an undertone, 
and there were many oblique nods of the head. 

Mr. Ganga Prasad proceeded to inquire about her 
‘‘ detention ” in the Arampur mission orphanage. 

Sita’s replies confirmed the testimony of her 
mother and Miss Ray, and cleared the latter of all 
blame. 

“ Your mother,” the barrister stated, and your 
husband, by visits and letters, have many times and 
repeatedly commanded you to return to your home 
that arrangements might be made for your second 


314 


The Appeal 

marriage ceremony. Can you deny that the mission- 
aries kept from you these visits and these orders ? 

“ They did not.” 

‘‘ You cannot deny that they broke your caste? ” 

“ I was only a child. Yet, with Miss Ray’s consent, 
I clung to every caste observance, even after we, the 
unclaimed government wards, were turned over by the 
Sirkar to the mission orphanage. I cooked my own 
food until long after my father’s — until there was no 
longer hope that there was one beside my mother 
among all my caste people who cared whether I lived 
or died.” 

With deep grief for her father’s cruel death and 
bitter memories of her childhood’s sufferings written 
upon her face, Sita looked at her betrothed. 

Ram Chandra moved uneasily, and, unable to en- 
dure her accusing eyes, turned toward his barrister. 

“ And then ? ” Ganga Prasad went on. 

“ Then I voluntarily ate of the orphanage food and 
put behind me all remembrance of my false friends.” 

“ And so,” cried the barrister, with an air of tri- 
umph, ‘‘the honourable missionaries did give you of 
their food, and did break your caste just as I have 
said.” 

From the mocking face of Ganga Prasad, who was 
now taking his seat, Sita looked appealingly to the be- 
nignant countenance of Judge Gracie. 

“ Sitabai,” Mr. Chatter ji now asked, “ about your 
life at home again; when your father was ill, how did 
you live?” 

“ It was hard. We ate trouble at that time.” 


Sita Speaks for Herself 315 

“ Did you really suffer from the famine? Did you 
ever go hungry ? ’’ 

“ While I was at home, we always had one meal 
a day.” 

“ Was there no one to help you? ” 

“ My father’s people did what they could.” 

Did no one else help your father ? ” 

“ No one.” 

‘‘ May I ask,” interrupted the opposing barrister, 
‘‘ how a little child could know that ? ” 

I would surely have known. My father always 
liked me to be with him, and since I was his eldest 
child, he talked to me a great deal. And when we had 
but one meal a day, I asked him, daily, if help had 
come. Then when my mother and father decided to 
send my brother and me away, we did not want to go 
away, and leave father ill. And so he called me to him 
one evening, and talked to me a long, long time. He 
was not like other Hindus and, though I was a girl, he 
always explained to me the reasons of things. That 
evening he called me his big girl, his clever daughter, 
— ^that was because I could read, — then he explained 
to me that nearly everything was gone, and that soon 
there would be no food for mother and Janak Ram, 
if Mohan Lai and I did not go away to a relief 
station.” 

The girl’s voice lost its firmness, and her lips 
trembled at the last, and when, upon speaking his 
name, she looked toward her mother and brother in the 
back of the room, her eyes were bright with unshed 
tears. 


3i 6 The Appeal 

“ Father said he would come for us,” she continued, 
in the rains, just as soon as he was able. I have re- 
membered the last part of the talk just as he said it, 
his voice breaking with love and sadness : ‘ I know,^ 

he said, ‘ that my learned daughter will understand 
and be brave ; for, unless help comes, there is no other 
way, beloved; no other way.’ ” 

‘‘ A marvellous memory has the learned defendant.” 
“ How soon after that did you go ? ” asked Mr. 
Chatter ji in a matter-of-fact tone which at once re- 
stored Sita’s wavering composure. 

“ After five days.” 

“ You were of what age then? ” 

‘‘Of nine years and four months.^’ 

“ What was your age at the time of your shadif ” 
“ I was of six years.” 

“ May I ask a question,” inquired the plaintiff’s 
barrister. “ Will the ‘ learned ’ defendant be so kind 
as to tell how she can recall her age with such assur- 
ance when she was a little child, only of four years 
when the shadi took place ? ” 

Sita set her lips together for a moment, and then 
replied, “ I have explained that my father called me 
learned in play, because I was the only girl in Raj 
Gaon who could read, and to give me courage. I do 
not remember my age at the time of the shadi. What 
I do remember is what my father said about it.” 

“ Ah ! she does not remember her age,” commented 
Mr. Prasad. 

Sitabai, please tell us what your father said,” re- 
quested her counsel. 


317 


Sita Speaks for Herself 

The girl waited a little, then said : ‘‘ These were 

the words — his last words — my father said, when I 
went to say salaam to him, ' Sita, daughter, you know 
your shadi-walla's father is wealthy. He can give you 
food, and milk, and fruits, and sweets; he can give 
you fine saris and rare jewels. And he will do this 
for you, if I consent to your going to his house to live. 
But I will not consent, not until you are twelve years.’ 
Then he asked me how old I was, and when I said 
nine years, he said, ' Nine years and four months, 
daughter; you came to us, by the favour of God, in 
the cold season. Remember, beloved, that your shadi 
was three years since, and remember that the second 
ceremony must not come until you are of twelve 
years.’ He charged me again and again, and made 
me say it after him, so many times that I have never 
forgotten. And that is how I know that I was six 
years old when the shadi was made.” 

‘‘Amazing!” cried the opposing barrister; “What 
a wonderful and astonishing imagination — Ah! 
memory.” 

Mr. Chatterji appealed to the judge, who pro- 
nounced Ganga Prasad’s sallies out of order. 

“ Sitabai,” said her barrister, “ your mother has 
lost track of your horoscope. Do you know anything 
about it ? ” 

. “ Ji; I have my horoscope. It was my father’s last 
gift.” Sita, as she spoke, opened a small brass box 
and displayed a paper upon which were pictures and 
writing. “ When he gave it to me, my mother was 
out cooking,” she explained. 


3i 8 The Appeal 

There was a stir of excitement in the room as Sita’s 
solicitor took from her the horoscope and handed it to 
the judge. Ram Chandra muttered, his brother 
cursed, and the priest grew ashy pale. Even Ganga 
Prasad for a moment looked nonplussed. Then, with 
great serenity, he said, “ It is of no consequence. It 
is not at all likely to be a true horoscope.” Then he 
asked of the witness, You admit this much, that 
your father arranged for the consummation of the 
marriage, when you were of twelve years, and that 
you are now two years past that.” 

I am four years past that.” 

*‘Wah! You say so, and yet you despise your 
husband’s and your parent’s commands. This, your 
new religion teaches you, no doubt, as well as to call 
your people ‘ heathen.’ ” 

Never have I heard missionaries use that word. 
They say Hindus, polytheists, and, sometimes, idola- 
tors; because our people have forgotten, and in the 
place of the glorious revelations, have accepted fool- 
ishness.” 

Our religion does not allow a woman even to read 
the sacred books,” Ganga Prasad commented in a 
tone of irritation. 

“ Yet it has come to my ears, barrister-ji,” Sita 
replied, after a moment of silence, “ that there are 
hymns in the Vedas written by women.” 

“True talk,” said the editor of The Indian World, 
“ True talk,” said Kamliabai. And two of the col- 
lege professors echoed the words. 

The barrister looked annoyed and said, sarcas- 


Sita Speaks for Herself 319 

tically, ‘‘ The defendant is learned. She is a pan- 
dita.” 

‘‘ Oh, no, I am only a learner. I have studied San- 
scrit less than three years. But my teacher is in truth 
a pandita,” Sita replied, looking confidently at Kam- 
liabai. 

Perhaps you have learned how our sacred books 
regard women? ” 

I have learned. There are some fine things; such 
as, ‘ Where women are honoured, there the gods are 
pleased, but where they are not honoured, no sacred 
rite yields reward.’ But Manu says, too, that, ‘ A wife 
who has committed faults may be beaten with a rope 
or a split bamboo.’ ” 

‘‘ Good, entirely correct,” muttered Krishna Rao, 
and there were several who gave approving sidewise 
nods of the head. 

Into Sita’s face there came a look of repulsion and 
resistance. After a moment her brow cleared, but 
her lips v/ere firmly set, as she continued : — 

“ The Christian religion is different.” 

“ Do you mean to say that no Christian man beats 
his wife? ” 

‘‘ There are men who wear the Christian name, who 
yet beat and maltreat their wives. But our Sacred 
Book gives no sanction to the outrage, as do the Hindu 
Shastras. There are, in the Hindu sacred books, 
things about women so bad that my lips refuse to 
frame the words.” 

The Christian religion, no doubt, places the men 
in a subordinate position ? ” 


320 


The Appeal 

Sita's face lighted up, as she replied : Not sub- 
ordinate, but our Sacred Book says, ‘ There is neither 
Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there 
is neither male nor female.’ Christians nations hold 
women in the highest honour. They are made the 
equals of men socially and religiously. A Christian 
woman is not expected to stand fanning her husband 
while he eats and then eat his leavings in another 
apartment. In the Christian home the wife sits with 
her husband at meals, and he causes the servants to 
wait upon her first.” 

Sita’s voice showed excitement, but she kept her 
eyes on the floor as she said with evident effort. 
Respect and friendship between a man and wife are 
approved by the Christian religion, and it used to be 
so among our people. In the Ramayana, Rama says 
to Sita, ‘ You are my companion in virtue, and dearer 
to me than life.’ In ancient times the girls were not 
married when children — and — and they — they were 
allowed to — to — choose their husbands as Christian 
women do now.” 

Krishna Rao muttered wrath fully and Ram 
Chandra’s face was, as usual, black with anger. 

“ Perhaps — perhaps,” interrupted Ganga Prasad, 
in his oiliest tone, “ the defendant has reason for desir- 
ing the abrogation and nullification of this marriage; 
she is free, not purdah like our modest — ah, — 
over-modest Hindu women, and she goes about 
with her charming face unveiled. She is not a 
child, and she has seen many men. No doubt, — per- 
haps, — ^possibly, she has already made her choice 


Sita Speaks for Herself 321 

of a husband from among Christian — ah, pariah 
bahadurs” 

The room was very quiet, only the rasping of the 
pankha rope breaking the stillness, as Sita stood with 
set lips and quivering chin. After a little she raised 
her eyes, and looked into Miss Ray’s, then into Kam- 
liabai’s face, and, regaining her self-control, answered 
in low and very distinct tones : — 

“ Christian native girls are not situated as Hindu 
girls and women are; these have little to occupy their 
minds, so their thoughts and their talk are often upon 
marriage. Then Hindu girls are married so very 
young. Miss Ray does not have her girls marry 
before they are of seventeen years and she per- 
mits those who love to study to wait until they 
are of nineteen or even twenty years. And Miss 
Ray teaches her girls not to talk much about mar- 
riage, but about books, and the beautiful things 
about us. 

“As for me,” she went on more firmly, with 
more manifest constraint, “ I have still two years in 
college if — if I complete the course as I hope to do. 
Besides, I know that I am not free. While I do not 
acknowledge the binding force/ of the shadi made in 
my childhood, I know that, unless it is annulled by the 
court, I am not free to think — of — of any other mar- 
riage.” 

Sita had, up to this time, studiously avoided look- 
ing in the direction of the college boys, but now, for 
an instant, she allowed herself to meet Lakshman’s 
gaze. His face was pallid, his eyes strained and burn- 


322 


The Appeal 

ing; and she added firmly without pause, I have 
thought of no other marriage/’ 

Then as his face grew ashen, involuntarily she 
turned her eyes upon her betrothed just in time to 
see the tense scowl on his face give place to 3 look 
of satisfaction. And she added: — 

“ I have been fully occupied with my studies and 
have put from me all thoughts of marriage.” 

“ And does your new religion teach you to despise 
the contract made by your mother and your dead 
father? ” 

My mother does not wish the marriage.” 

“ She did — she does wish it, but does not now know 
her own mind. And would you selfishly leave her 
in penury when she might live in affluence the rest of 
her life? Does your Christian religion teach you 
that?” 

“ My mother would not care for affluence at the 
hands of those who, in famine days, were pitiless. 
But I have earned a little money in the past year as 
a pupil teacher, enough to pay my expenses at school. 
I can now earn much more, since I have passed the 
teacher’s examination. And if my mother will only 
come to me,” she said, looking lovingly toward 
Tulsiabai, and pleadingly at the judge, if only 
this shadi may be annulled, — I will gladly give 
up my plans for going to college, everything, 
and will, with my own money, take care of my 
mother.” Sita spoke eagerly, with earnest, radiant 
face. 

“If there is so much good,” questioned Mr. Prasad, 


Sita Speaks for Herself 323 

in the religion of your country, why do you abandon 
it for a foreign religion ? ” 

‘‘ I no longer believe in many gods or image wor- 
ship. I can never again be a Hindu, since I have 
learned a better way of serving God.” 

“ I understand then that you see only evil in the 
religion of your fathers?” 

“ No, barrister, there is much that is good; I have 
learned some beautiful passages from the D karma 
Shastras [holy writings].” 

‘‘ What passages ? ” 

Sita recited one of the old Vedic hymns to the un- 
known God, closing with the lines: — 

Who is the God to whom we shall offer sacrifices ? 

He through whom the awful heavens and the earth were made 
fast. 

He through whom the ether was established and the firma- 
ment; 

He who measured the air in the sky.” 

“ Then this one is, I think, from the Upanishads : — 
' There is one Rudra [God] only. They do not al- 
low a second, who rules all the world by his prowess.’ 
And, too, in the Upanishads is this great thought: — 

“ ‘ The person, Brahm [God], under form of mind, 
light indeed, is within the heart, small, like a grain 
of rice or barley. He is the ruler of all, the Lord 
of all.’ ” Sita’s face was earnest as she added, “ And 
this is true. God does live in our hearts.” 

‘‘ Why, then, do you wish to give up this religion 
that you think so good?” questioned Ganga Prasad, 
with respectful and persuasive manner. 


324 The Appeal 

I give up nothing that is good, but keep all that 
is true. For God is one God, the God of all, and He 
has revealed Himself to all peoples, as they were able 
to receive His truth.” 

‘‘ Then, why are you unwilling to return to your 
allegiance to the religion of your fathers?” 

One of my objections to Hinduism is the caste 
system.” 

And so caste is the bugbear that hinders and 
obstructs your way? Is it possible that the learned 
defendant is ignorant of the fact that caste exists in 
all countries, even in the great land of the foreign 
rulers of our India ! ” 

“ I know that there is class distinction in other 
lands; but nothing, I am told, like the Hindu caste 
system.” 

‘‘There is some difference, no doubt; yet the 
difference is slight and of no importance, of no 
significance. Do you understand, may I inquire, 
that the tahsildar stands ready to pay your heavy 
fine, even a half lac of rupees for your reinstate- 
ment ? ” 

“ I understand.” 

“ Then, it is the penances.* Can it be that Pandit 
Janak’s daughter has not the courage — ^that she fears 
to undergo the simple and insignificant penances im- 
posed upon recalcitrant violators of caste law? ” 

Sita looked at her friends, and answered : “If it 

* One of the requirements for restoration to caste is that the 
offender shall partake of the five products of the cow — milk, 
butter, cheese, urine, and f^ces. 


325 


Sita Speaks for Herself 

were only the disgusting penances, I would make no 
protest. But the Hindu caste system is selfish and un- 
utterably cruel.’' Sita spoke of two instances of ter- 
rible suffering that had come to her knowledge, which 
might have been relieved except for caste laws, and 
mentioned the well-known fact that high-caste men. 
rather than break their caste by receiving food or 
water from the hands of the low-caste, have laid down 
their lives. She then told the story of the good 
Samaritan. “ The Samaritan,” she concluded, was 
better than the priest or the Levite, who were of the 
highest class, like our Brahmans. Jesus taught them 
that God looked upon the heart, and is no respecter of 
persons.” 

“ And your father, for whom you profess to care 
so much. Do you owe nothing to your father, that 
you forget and despise his last instructions ? ” 

Sita stood silent, her chin a-tremble, and her eyes 
upon the floor. When she lifted them they were full 
of tears which she would not suffer to fall. Her voice, 
when she essayed to speak, was at first tremulous, but 
almost immediately grew steady. 

“ My father,” she began, ‘‘ my father was the best 
father that girl ever had. How much I owe to him I 
can never know. But this much I know: I owe him 
my freedom. With his dear life he purchased for me, 
his little daughter, freedom from the vilest slavery, 
for at least seven happy years.” 

Then what is your duty to your father but to 
obey his last choice ? ” 

“ My father would not now wish this marriage.” 


326 The Appeal 

There was a sound of angry muttering from the 
direction of the tahsildm'^s sons. 

“ Indeed ! ” exclaimed Ganga Prasad. ‘‘ The learned 
defendant not only reads Sanscrit, but the minds of 
the departed and reincarnated soul. And, daughter 
of Janak, because of knowledge so obtained, would you 
set at naught the marriage your father made for you 
while here in this birth — the most desirable of 
alliances — with a young nobleman of wealth and edu- 
cation, a nobleman who is willing to overlook the 
scandal you have created, and to receive you as his 
honoured bride? ” 

A look of utter repugnance passed over Sita^s 
face, then, with blazing eyes and pallid lips, she said 
in a voice restrained, but vibrant with emotion 

‘‘Willing to receive me? Willing? This brave 
Bahadur whom you laud is more than willing. Would 
my father, pandit and philosopher, the son of King 
Janak, and nobler in heart than any king — ^would my 
dear father wish me to degrade myself by consenting 
to an alliance with one who had persecuted and 
dragged into court his fatherless daughter to shame 
her and to win her by compulsion of the law? One 
who, this day of enlightenment, when the slavery of 
men has been abolished the world over, still regards 
a wife as a chattel, who would imprison her in a 
zenana, put her in caste bonds, rob her of her liberty, 
and of her religion? Would Pandit Janak wish his 
daughter to degrade her womanhood by consenting to 
an abhorrent and unholy marriage ? ” 

“ You would, doubtless, prefer to this alliance with 


Sita Speaks for Herself 327 

one of our most excellent and most honoured fami- 
lies, marriage with a — ah — pariah.’' 

‘‘Truly it were better to marry an outcast with 
a noble heart than a nobleman with a base one.” 

Sita knew that her words were to caste Hindus 
inexplicable as well as unpardonable, and in the silence 
emphasized by the rasp of the pankha rope she looked 
toward Ram Chandra. 

He sat with clenched hands, his eyes burning with 
passion well-nigh unbearable. 

And Sita was glad. 

“ Truly your manner of honouring the great pandit, 
your father, is all your own.” 

“ Is not every Christian virtually an outcast ? My 
father, in theory, did not believe in caste. And how 
can any one say that it is my duty to marry one whose 
father let my father die ? My duty to my father is to 
do as he would have me do were he here to-day, with 
the light of to-day. My duty to my father is to live 
up to the light I have. I have tried so to live. 

“ I have tried to live the noblest, the very noblest 
life for the sake of my father, and for One greater 
than my earthly father. For the sake of my Heavenly 
Father who sent His Son to save me — ^to teach me 
that a woman is not accursed, is not the despicable 
thing that the Hindu religion would have me believe, 
but a daughter of God, of the great and only God. 
You think it perversity that brings me here. It is not. 
I stand here to resist unjust and cruel customs, to 
oppose child-marriage, and all marriage that is not 
with the consent of both parties. I plead not for my- 


328 The Appeal 

self alone, but for my sisters — for Indian woman- 
hood. You think it easy for me to stand here to 
endure bullying and brow-beating. But I have not 
eaten shame. For my God has been with me and 
given me courage — ^my God to whom I had prayed to 
show me how I could do most for my sisters — ^to do 
most for the freeing of India’s women from bondage. 
For the battle is on and they, too, shall be free, for 
God himself will lead the hosts. And the words of 
that great American woman, Julia Ward Howe, in 
the interest of freedom, are for India, too : — 

‘ He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat. 
He is sifting out the hearts of men, before His judgment seat. 
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet. 

Our God is marching on.’ ” 

“ Let me go free from this hateful marriage and 
I shall be content to live with my mother, protected by 
the orphanage walls, and teach my little sisters all my 
days. And I will teach them, even without a thought 
of drudgery, their letters. I will teach them with pas- 
sionate joy, knowing that these letters spell freedom. 

‘‘You ask me why I may not return to caste, and 
the religion of my fathers. You asked me to renounce 
the Saviour who came to teach that women are not 
accursed, but blessed children of God — the Son of 
God who, oh, wonderful deed of the ages, gave His 
life to save women eternally, and to save them now. 

“ Can I do less than offer Him myself ? I am ready 
to follow where he leads and, whatever be the cost, 
to fight in any battles led by the Son of God. 

‘ Be swift, my soul, to answer Him.’ ” 


VIII 


JUDGMENT 

M r. CHATTERJI, immediately upon the 
judge’s announcement of adjournment, had 
asked the privilege of stating that he had 
one more witness to examine. “ That witness whom 
I wish to recall,” he said, is the honoured priest and 
astrologer. Ram Dev. However,” he added, looking 
around, “ he is not now present.” 

The barrister’s manner plainly indicated his suspi- 
cion that the witness, who had been in constant 
attendance upon the trial, might be spirited away. 

The judge’s benign face, after a glance about the' 
room, grew stern, as he regarded for an instant Ganga 
Prasad and his clients. And when he quietly ordered 
the constable to see that the recalled witness was on 
hand promptly at three o’clock. Judge Grade’s tone 
and manner indicated that he was in no mood to be 
trifled with. 

At the opening of court Ram Dev was present 
He had quite recovered his equanimity; and when 
on the stand he was handed Sita’s horoscope, he boldly 
denied its genuineness. The signature, he admitted, 
was very like, yet he had no hesitation in pronouncing 
it a clear forgery. 

After he had made repeated denials, Mr. Chatterji 
329 


330 The Appeal 

produced three other horoscopes which he asked the 
witness to identify. 

With a frown he received the horoscopes of Janak's 
sons and began to compare them with the one under 
dispute. 

The signature, you say, is a forgery,” said Mr. 
Chatter ji presently, “ but what have you to say 
about the seal ? The seals on the four horoscopes bear 
the same device and are in every respect identical. 
Is the document genuine or not ? ” 

The astrologer evaded, doubted, demurred, but ad- 
mitted under the barrister’s cross-questioning that he 
might have forgotten, that he might have given it 
and finally, that, although he had no recollection of 
it, he might have cast the girl’s horoscope. 

As he made the admission, Sita heard a suppressed 
curse from the direction of the tahsildafs sons. 

But her heart was singing for joy. With her joy 
written upon her face she met for an instant the eyes 
of the astrologer, eyes so full of hatred and menace 
that she shuddered. Then immediately she drew her- 
self up. The priest is furious,” she thought, “ and 
so are the tahsildar's sons. 'Tis well! They will 
not now wish the marriage.” 

Mr. Chatterji now announced that the defence was 
ready to rest the case. Thereupon the counsel for the 
plaintiff began his closing argument, urging precedent, 
ancient custom, and religious belief, all of which were 
to be swept aside for the whim of a foolish girl of 
fourteen years, a disobedient wife and unfilial and 
rebellious daughter, who had already brought dis- 


Judgment 331 

honour and disgrace upon her family, her husband’s 
family, her caste people, the land of India, and the 
ancient religion of her fathers. Although only four 
o’clock and the hot winds still blowing, the crowded 
room necessitated open windows and the throng out- 
side could hear Ganga Prasad’s impassioned utter- 
ances, and again and again a low murmur of approval 
reached the ears of those within. He spoke for an 
hour, ending with a quotation from the Queen’s 
proclamation of 1858, which he recited in a loud 
voice : ‘ We do strictly charge and require all those 

who may be in authority under us, that they abstain 
from all interference with the religious belief or wor- 
ship of any of our subjects on pain of Our highest 
displeasure.’ Your honour, I appeal to you to sus- 
tain, and uphold, and support our most ancient, most 
honourable, most righteous religion. For it is our 
religion that is called in question, marriage lying at the 
very foundation of our religion. I appeal to your 
honour to turn a deaf and unhearing ear to the strenu- 
ous but sophistic arguments of our friend, the counsel 
for the defendant. I appeal to your honour to stand by 
the most righteous proclamation of her most gracious 
majesty, the late Empress of India; to stand by your 
statements made during this trial that the government 
has nothing to do with missions. I appeal to your 
honour not to uphold the religion of the Christian mis- 
sionaries, which religion is indeed good and excellent 
for foreigners, but unsuited to India, — but to uphold 
the national, indigenous religion of Hindustan, ortho- 
dox Hinduism.” 


332 


The Appeal 

As Ganga Prasad concluded, wild shouts of ap- 
plause came from the concourse of people outside, 
mingling with the repressed exclamations of the 
plaintiff’s friends within the courtroom. 

The judge, hearing the cries, again glanced at his 
letter, then at the throng outside. 

Sita sat tensely erect, her lips tightly closed and 
her eyes upon the Commissioner. 

The counsel for the defence first called in question 
the interpretation put upon the words of the Queen : — 

“ I cannot do better,” he said, ‘‘ than to quote, in 
this connection, the words of Sir A. R. Scoble, at one 
time Queen’s Counsel : — 

“ ‘ It is intolerable,’ protested the great man, ‘ that 
her majesty’s gracious words should be perverted, as 
they have been on many platforms and in, many news- 
papers, in order to support a charge of breach of duty 
by the government of India.’ If my honourable friend 
had had the candour to read all those parts of the 
proclamation which bear upon the argument, he 
would have found that her majesty declared it to be 
her royal will and pleasure that none be in anywise 
favoured, none molested nor disqualified by reason of 
their religious faith or observances, that all shall alike 
enjoy the equal and impartial protection of the 
law.” 

Mr. Chatter ji maintained that the purpose of the 
proclamation was to promote religious liberty, not to 
rivet the bonds of evil customs. He cited cases in 
which the Indian government had acted in direct oppo- 
sition to the Hindu religion, — both as to precept and 


333 


Judgment 

practice, — in prohibition of sati [widow burning], 
and of the offering of human sacrifices. He then 
explained that many of the leaders of thought in India 
had approved the action of the government in these 
cases, at the time, and that in after years such ap- 
proval had become general. He further stated that 
there was in these decisions of government no viola- 
tion of the spirit of the proclamation of the late 
honoured Empress of India. 

The barrister then urged that the child-marriage 
question was more vital and incomparably more far- 
reaching in its consequences than either of the other 
questions, involving as it did, the welfare of the entire 
country. After an able dissertation on this theme, he 
stated Sita's case; contrasted her ideals and her faith 
with those of Ram Chandra, and pleaded for the an- 
nulling of the marriage on the grounds of her right to 
choose her religion and her right as a rational being 
of mature judgment, to decide the marriage question 
for herself. Mr. Chatter ji stated that the letters of 
the plaintiff clearly indicated his belief in polygamy 
and as clearly demanded that the defendant give up 
her religion and be reinstated in her caste. 

“ We have shown,'’ concluded the barrister, “ by 
irrefutable evidence that she is past sixteen years of 
age, and so entitled by law to choose her own religion. 
Moreover we contend, — and I was myself a Hindu 
until I reached my twenty-second year, — that it is an 
impossible thing for a Christian woman to live in a 
Hindu household and perform the duties required of 
a Hindu wife." 


334 


The Appeal 

At the close of Mr. Chatter ji’s speech there were 
nods of approval from the native reformers present, 
while the rest of the courtroom audience remained 
silent, some wearing thoughtful, some angry faces. 
The great throng without maintained a sullen silence. 

When the judge arose to sum up the case there 
was a marked tenseness in the air. Out of appreci- 
ation,” he began, “ of the importance of the case, in 
its bearing on living social issues, we have given an 
unwonted amount of time to its consideration, we 
have heard with patience and weighed with care the 
testimony and arguments of both sides. It is a diffi- 
cult case, involving the question of religious liberty. 

The plaintiff in this suit maintains that the defend- 
ant is only fourteen years of age. If this were proved, 
she, according to the law, would be subject to her 
people in religion as well as in other matters. On 
the other hand, if she is sixteen years old she has the 
right of choice. The court holds that, considering the 
evidence presented, together with the appearance of 
the girl and her intelligence as manifested on the wit- 
ness stand, her age has been established as fully six- 
teen. It is for her, therefore, to decide for herself whe- 
ther she will be a Hindu or a Christian. The court, 
therefore, rules that the defendant, Sita, having chosen 
the Christian religion, shall be freed from the contract 
of marriage with the plaintiff. Ram Chandra, made by 
their parents, unless the plaintiff is willing to take her 
with the express understanding that she remain a 
Christian.” 

“ Remain a Christian ! ” burst out Krishna Rao, 


Judgment 335 

Not in the house of the tahsildar; the — apos- 
tate 

The judge demanded order; but this time the plain- 
tiff's counsel failed to come to his aid, and before quiet 
could be restored, he was obliged to threaten. 

But for the elder brother's anger Sita no longer 
cared. With exultant gladness she turned her eyes 
upon her betrothed. Evidently he was unprepared for 
the judge's decision; his lips were ashen and he ap- 
peared stunned. As he looked, Abdul Khan ap- 
proached and spoke to him in a loud whisper. Though 
the words of her solicitor's brother did not reach the 
girl, his mocking grin and insolent bearing proclaimed 
their import. 

Instantly the Rajput recovered himself. He gave 
the Mohammedan a look of furious anger; then turn- 
ing, spoke to the friends grouped about him, his 
brother, his uncle, his barrister, and the astrologer. 

“ You hear," he asked, in uncontrollable passion. 

Shall Mohammedan dogs triumph while Rajputs 
lick the dust ? Shall foreign law and foreign religion 
rob me of my bride? Foreign " 

Ganga Prasad with a look of fear now interrupted. 

“ This means, too," Judge Gracie continued, that 
the plaintiff, if he takes a Christian wife, must pro- 
vide for her means of worship; must make some 
arrangements by which she may attend religious serv- 
ices. If there is no other way, he must himself sup- 
port a Christian preacher in or near his own town." 

Never! Never! " cried Krishna Rao, with an oath. 

Then " the judge began. 


336 The Appeal 

‘‘Is there no other alternative?” interrupted Ram 
Chandra. 

“ None,” replied the judge. 

“ One moment, please.” 

Sita saw the young man arouse his sleeping uncle; 
then her attention was called to the priest whispering 
eagerly to Krishna Rao. As she looked he turned 
toward her with the same threatening sinister gaze as 
before. 

“ The plaintiff accepts the conditions,” Ganga 
Prasad then announced. 

Sita, in amazement, turned her eyes upon the judge. 

He grew pale as he heard, then looking at the angry, 
determined faces of the plaintiff and his friends, out 
of the windows at the silent, sullen faces of the ever- 
increasing crowd, at the open letter before him, and 
finally at Sita. 

“ There is yet another consideration,” he now stated 
with firmness. “ Christians are not polygamists. The 
court, therefore, asks if the plaintiff has made any 
other shadi?” 

Sita’s eyes were instantly upon her betrothed; her 
ears strained to catch his reply. 

“ I have no other wife,” he answered, without 
delay. 

“ He has no other wife,” corroborated the priest. 

With sinking heart Sita turned again to the judge. 

His gaze rested upon Ram Chandra, then upon the 
crowd outside, then upon a paragraph of the Chief 
Commissioner’s letter, which paragraph read as fol- 
lows : — 


Judgment 337 

‘‘ I learn of considerable unrest in these provinces, 
occasioned by outbreaks in adjoining native states. 
Of these outbreaks the disaffected have taken 
advantage to stir up the people with wild rumohrs and 
inflammatory talk. I have, therefore, to ask that you 
will be pleased to urge upon all the officials of your 
district the importance of taking extraordinary care 
at this time, to avoid arousing an antagonistic 
spirit. Above all, let nothing be done that will give 
ground or pretext for the exhibition of religious 
fanaticism/' 

The judge resumed his speech. After expressing 
sympathy for the defendant, and high esteem for the 
ideals of marriage presented by her and her friends, 
he declared that it was his hope that they might one 
day prevail. “ As for child-marriage,’’ he said, “ it 
is a monstrous custom, nor has the government hesi- 
tated to take steps towards abolishing it. The age 
for the marriage of girls has already been raised two 
years, and will be raised again as the sentiment of the 
country warrants. Reformations are brought about 
in two ways, by compulsion and by education. The 
latter is the method approved by the government of 
India. 

But as for this case, the defendant is now a 
woman grown, and the court finds no sufficient cause 
for annulling the marriage. The decision of the court 
is, therefore, with the aforesaid explanations and pro- 
visions, that the defendant Sita, about whom the gov- 
ernment will throw its protecting arm, shall abide by 
the marriage contract made by her father and shall 


338 The Appeal 

accept as her legal husband, Ram Chandra, the plain- 
tiff/’ 

Sita looked at the judge in bewilderment. 

Jai, jai. Ram ki. Ram ki jai, [Victory, victory 
to the God Ram],” she heard the priest’s exultant cry. 

“ ‘ How long, O Lord, how long,’ ” moaned Miss 
Ray, with bowed head. 

Mr. Chatter] i now announced that the defendant 
would again appeal to a higher court. 

And immediately the crowd outside, having caught 
the decision of the judge, repeated may times the cry 
of victory. 


IX 


DEFEAT AND VICTORY 

ALA AM, Miss Sahib-ji; salaam, pandita-ji; 
where is my sister? Ram Janak ran breath- 
less into the living-room of the mission bunga- 
low, nor did he wait for replies to his salutations or 
questions but repeated his demand for his sister. 

“ She is here,’' answered Miss Hillis, ‘‘ What is it. 
Ram Janak? ” 

He is coming. Ram Chandra is coming to take 
her ! ” 

Why — how ” she began. There is to be 

another appeal. He cannot take her.’" 

But he will. He is coming now ! ” The lad turned 
to Kamliabai, putting his hands together in entreaty. 

Send her away. Oh, send her away quick.” As 
he spoke he saw Sita, who had just entered the room. 

We had better let her go,” said the pandita, “ I 
can go with her and ” 

‘‘ Very well,” answered Miss Hillis. Son, call the 
tonga, and I will get your sister.” 

The boy ran out and his sister turned to Kamliabai, 
who was putting on a red sari, “ He cannot take 
me ! ” protested Sita, who had recovered from her de- 
jection. 

‘‘ Not legally; but it will save trouble, and you know 
Miss Ray ” 


339 


340 The Appeal 

“ Let us go at once/’ the girl interrupted, ‘‘ and not 
wait for the tonga.” 

I hear the tonga now,” Miss Hillis answered, 
“ but — it is coming from the outside ! ” 

The pandita stepped to the door, closed and locked 
it, then said: — 

‘‘ We are too late.” 

‘‘Is there no other way out?” questioned the girl, 
with some excitement in her voice. 

“ No way,” replied Miss Hillis, “ but this door and 
the orphanage gate, and both open upon the driveway. 
If we should start now he would seize you and be 
off.” 

“ He has come,” cried Ram Janak, running in from 
the back door. 

“ Yes, son, but he cannot take your sister,” ex- 
plained Miss Hillis. “ He may make some trouble, but 
if he does we will send for Judge Grade. Now, Sita,” 
she went on, “ you go back into the orphanage, and I 
will meet Ram Chandra. He has no right to take 
you, you know.” 

“ I know. Mr. Chatter ji told me. But Ray Miss 
Sahib is so very ill ” 

Miss Hillis now went out upon the veranda, and 
Sita heard Ram Chandra’s deep voice, and the words, 
“ I have come to claim my wife.” She shivered, then 
ran quickly out of the bungalow, across the orphanage 
compound, and into the study hall, where Miss Har- 
mon sat with the older girls. 

“What is it? You did not go?” questioned the 
missionary in surprise, speaking low, so as not to dis- 


Defeat and Victory 341! 

turb the girls. Then, upon hearing Sita’s explanation, 
she, after a thoughtful silence, smiled and said, 

Never fear, little sister, God reigns and He is able 
to deliver.” 

God reigns and He is able to deliver.” As the 
girl spoke all fear left her face. 

Miss Hillis now came in and reported that Ram 
Chandra had demanded his wife and insisted upon a 
direct answer from her. 

“ My answer is the same it has been all along. I 
do not acknowledge him as my husband, and I will 
not go with him.” She spoke calmly, with marked 
emphasis. 

“ Quite right, Sitabai,” both missionaries assented, 
and they went away to consult with Miss Vernon. 
When Miss Hillis came back to Sita and the girls, and 
they gathered about her eager for the news, she 
explained to them Ram Chandra’s demand, then 
added, “ A crowd has gathered outside, and word 
has come that Judge Gracie has gone into the district. 
He is to camp seven miles out to-night. However,” 
she continued, seeing fear and anxiety on some of 
the faces, ‘‘ we have sent for Mr. Stafford and Mr. 
Ashley.” The faces cleared and one of the girls 
began to tell of an experience she had known, when 
a Brahman girl in the school at her home became a 
Christian. The Great Sahib in that case had come 
and sent away the people. 

Miss Hillis now told the girls that they need not 
study, but would sing. Sing ' Deliverance Will 
Come/ ” said Mohani confidently. They sang the 


342 


The Appeal 

song so named, and afterward began spontaneously 
to pray. Following the prayers, they recited Bible 
incidents which told of the wonderful deliverance of 
servants of God. Once an angry cry from the people 
outside arose, and Miss Hillis led the girls in another 
song. While they were singing, Kamliabai came in 
to report that Mr. Stafford had gone home, but that 
Mr. Ashley was coming over. Sita inquired of the 
pandita about Miss Ray. 

“ Her fever is high,” was the answer, ‘‘ and she 
is delirious. The outcries of the mob are bad for 
her.” 

“ Delirious ? Mob ? ” the girl said, with pale lips. 
‘‘ Oh, pray for her ! ” Kamliabai and Miss Hillis led 
the prayers of the girls, then Sita prayed with her 
whole heart for Miss Ray's recovery. 

“ May I not go to mama-ji? ” questioned Sita, fol- 
lowing Kamliabai as she left the room. 

“ Why, yes, little sister, if you wish; but not for 
long. It will not be safe.” 

As they passed through the dining-room of the 
bungalow, Sita heard Ram Chandra’s voice from the 
veranda, now in angry expostulations. 

“ Wait ? Have I not waited for seven years, and 
have not two foreign judges said that I should have 
her ? Bring her out or I’ll come in and take her.” 

No, Ram Chandra,” Miss Vernon answered 
firmly and distinctly, “You cannot come in; this is 
a zenana and does not admit men.” 

“ I will have my wife.” 

“ Come,” said Kamliabai, as Mr. Ashley’s voice 


Defeat and Victory 343 

was heard, “ Come, sister, the padre sahib is here/’ 

With relief in her heart Sita went to Miss Ray. 
Gazing upon her purple cheeks and staring eyes, 
watching her restless tossing and listening to her 
rambling words, there came into Sita’s face an ex- 
pression of deep suffering. Presently there was a 
cry from the mob and the patient started violently, 
and cried, “ Sita! Where is Sita? ” And she gave no 
sign of recognition, though the girl took her hands 
and spoke to her entreatingly. 

“ God help her ! God save her I moaned Sita, sink- 
ing on her knees beside the bed, while Priya, who 
had been assisting Dr. Doran, knelt too, putting her 
arm about her friend, and they mingled their prayers 
and their hearts’ sorrow. 

Very soon Sita arose, and going to Dr. Doran 
asked, “ Can mama-ji get well? ” 

“ She is very ill,” the doctor replied, ‘‘ but — if she 
could have quiet the fever would go down.” 

‘‘ She must have quiet, yes.” The girl looked a 
moment at the patient, then, going to Kamliabai, led 
her from the room. When in the dining-room she 
said, “ Mama-ji must have quiet or she will die. I must 
get away, so the mob will go. Help me, pandita-ji.” 

While she was speaking Dr. Doran came out, and 
hearing Sita’s words, nodded approvingly. 

If it could be done. You might try the wall at 
the back.” 

“ Let us go,” urged Sita. 

‘‘ Good,” answered the pandita. But hearing Mr. 
Ashley’s voice in the drawing-room, they went in. 


344 


The Appeal 

We have sent for Mr. Gracie,” he said, but he 
is expected to go seven miles to-night, and the mes- 
senger cannot overtake him before he reaches camp.’' 

“ But you can hold them in check,” said Miss Har- 
mon; “ surely you can hold them in check until the 
Commissioner gets here ? ” 

“ Perhaps; possibly. But it ’will take at least three 
hours.” 

Ram Chandra must know that the officials are 
away,” commented Miss Vernon. 

“ And,” said the pandita, “ he is not likely to wait 
patiently for his return.” 

“ Can you not appeal to him, Mr. Ashley, or to 
the people ? ” questioned Miss Harmon. 

“ I will do my best with them, but he is determined, 
and a religious mob has neither head nor heart. I 
must warn you that there is danger, great danger for 
every one on the place.” 

A hunted look came into’Sita’s face as she listened. 
“ Let us go; let me get away,” she pleaded, and Miss 
Vernon and the pandita hastened with her out into 
the compound over the dried grass on the lawn, 
through the banana grove and the garden, the moon 
giving occasional light as it escaped the flying clouds. 

‘‘ Wait until I look,” said Miss Vernon, who was 
taller than the pandita, and stepping upon a box she 
had taken from the house, she reported, “ All right,” 
and gave place to Kamliabai. 

But before the latter could get on the wall a warn- 
ing Chup [Silence] came from farther down. The 
startled women were reassured when they recognized 


Defeat and Victory 34^5 

Janak Ram, who, slipping from the wall, ran toward 
them, repeating his warning in a whisper. Listening 
intently they heard voices coming nearer, voices of 
men. When opposite the waiting group, the men 
stopped for a moment, but continued to talk in low 
tones. When they had passed out of hearing. Miss 
Vernon cautiously gave another look over the wall, 
then stepped down. “ It is too late,’’ she whispered, 
‘‘ there are men in both directions.” 

“Too late?” questioned Sita, her voice indicating 
that she knew the answer. 

“ Surely, Kamliabai,” whispered Miss Vernon, 
“ these men would not dare to touch the other 
girls ! ” 

“ You heard their threats and you heard Mr. Ash- 
ley. A frenzied religious mob will dare anything, 
anything.” 

“ Too late ! ” repeated Sita. Then she added, “ Go, 
please, to Miss Ray and I will come soon. Please go 
now and leave me.” They hesitated to leave her, but 
the entreating voice was strained, and the girl’s face, 
— the moon again gave her light, — showed an anguish 
of soul too great to be shared; and so they left her 
alone, but Miss Vernon watched from the veranda, 
watched and in the stillness of the night heard : — 

“God! God! God!” came the despairing cry; 
then at intervals, other words reached the ear of the 
watcher : — 

“ Not this, oh God, not this ! 

“ Oh, my Father, didst Thou not promise deliver- 


ance? 


346 The Appeal 

‘‘ Have I not tried, my God, to do Thy will ? Have 
I not followed Thee, my Saviour, with my whole 
heart? Have I not studied that I might be able to 
name Thy name to my untaught sisters? I believed 
that Thou wouldst have me teach them and the little 
children to read Thy sacred book, to teach them to 
love Thy name, O Christ — ^and now there is nothing 
for me — nothing but to be a slave ! 

" Are ye able to drink the cup that I drink, or to 
be baptized ^ 

‘‘ Oh, I am not able to drink this cup. 

Is there no other way, my Father? 

Be swift j my soul, to answer — be jubilant, my 
feet ^ " 

The words came mechanically, and were followed 
by a passionate protest; “No, Lord God! Never, 
never with jubilant feet. 

‘ Are ye able to drink 

“ Must I go, my father, to be a slave? True, Joseph 
was a slave, and he did wonderful things; but Joseph 
was a man. 

“ Lord, Thy will, — no, I cannot say it ! — Oh, those 
threats, those wicked men! Why did Mr. Ashley 
look at me when he said that all in the place were in 
danger ? They are in danger because I am here ? Be 
swift, my soul/ Help, O, Lord Jesus! Is it Thy will 
that I should go with this — ^man? This unholy mar- 
riage, — is there no other way ? ’’ 

A loud cry from the mob was followed by a prayer 
for Miss Ray, “ Mama-ji! Oh, my Father! Make her 
well, make her well! 


Defeat and Victory 347 

'‘Is there no other way, my Father? No other 
way? 

^ The Lord reigns f He might have made a way 
of escape and did not. " 

" ' Be swift, my soul! ^ Deliverance will come to her, 
for her — for all the rest, not for me. Thy will — ' Be 
swift, my soul; be swift, my feet/ 

When Miss Vernon saw Sita coming toward the 
house, her first impulse was to meet and take her in 
her arms. She had suffered with her, she was all 
a-tremble with sympathy, and her tears were flowing 
fast. But on second thought she stepped back into the 
shadow. 

As Sita opened the door the light from within fell 
full upon her and Miss Vernon was startled by the 
change. Instead of the bright, hopeful girl she saw 
a stern, resolute woman. The light had gone from 
her eyes, and her tensely erect carriage enforced the 
protest of her face. Yet above protest was resolution; 
her set, ashen lips and the lines of her face and figure 
saying loudly, “ I will, because I must.” 

When she went again to the sickroom, Sita stood 
watching Mohani as she pressed the restless feet of 
the patient, while Miss Harmon, sponging her hot 
hands and face, stood watching the burning lips as 
they babbled nonsense. 

" God,” Sita moaned — “ that her lips should for- 
get — ^the lips that have taught so much of truth, so 
much of wisdom.” 

“How is she?” she asked of the physician, who. 


348 The Appeal 

with Priya, stood looking out of the darkened window 
at the mob. 

My dear/' she said, with a look of anxiety upon 
her face, “the fever does not go down, and I am 
afraid for her.” 

Sita knelt by Miss Ray and buried her head in the 
bedclothes. She did not know when the doctor took 
Miss Harmon’s place. But presently she heard the 
latter speak her name in the next room, then Miss 
Vernon’s clear voice, saying, “ Our Sita go back to 
Hinduism? There is no more danger of that than of 
my becoming a Hindu myself.” 

“There is no danger of that; she would die first,” 
Kamliabai added. 

“ Then if she is safe from that greatest calamity 
that could befall her, who knows but she might be 
the means of converting those people?” 

“ Possible,” said the pandita, but her tone and in- 
flection made it mean “ impossible.” 

“ How could her life be in danger? ” the new mis- 
sionary asked. “ The judge promised the protection 
of the government.” 

“ Yes,” the pandita answered, “ but the power of 
the mighty British Government ends at the pardah 
door. The arm of the law is not long enough, nor 
strong enough to reach behind the pardah'' 

“ Pundita Kamliabai,” replied Miss Harmon, “ I 
have been in your country but a short time and know 
nothing about zenana life, but I believe that the God 
who saved Daniel is able even to reach behind the 
Hindu pardah.” 


Defeat and Victory 349 

‘‘ Truly, I would rather risk the lions,’’ the pandita 
answered, but — your faith is a rebuke to my unbe- 
lief.” 

And to mine,” replied Miss Vernon. ‘‘ I have 
heard such terrible things, but God’s power is not 
limited. And she will go, I am sure, to save the girls. 
I saw it in her face. She will go, even at the peril of 
her life. But I will never bid her go, whatever comes.” 

“ Surely not. But listen to the mob — He will take 
her. And God allows martyrdom, — ^her death might 
count for more than her life? ” 

Her death,” answered the pandita, ‘‘ would surely 
count for the abolition of the pardah. But oh, that 
our Sita should be the sacrifice ! ” 

The words repeated themselves in Sita’s mind. 

‘‘ ‘ Martyrdom ’ — ‘ to save the girls ’ — ‘ her death 
would count,’ — ‘ to save the girls ’ — ‘ martyrdom ’ — 
Be swift my soul, he swift, my feet ’ ” 

Again the pandita’s voice arrested her attention. 
‘‘ But her life, if by some miraculous means it might 
be preserved, — our beautiful Sita’s life behind the par- 
dah, in the family of the tahsildar, would do more than 
anything else could for the freeing of India’s women.” 

‘ Freeing India’s women,’ ” repeated the girl. 
“ ‘ Our Sita’s life behind the pardah would do more 
than anything else for freeing India’s women ! ’ Why ! 
that is what we have all been praying for ! God al- 
lowed Joseph to be stolen for the sake of his people. 
He allows me to be taken for the sake of my people. 
It is God!” 

Miss Ray’s moans became more frequent, and Sita 


350 


The Appeal 

began to press her feet murmuring, ‘‘God help her; 
God make her well.” 

Dr. Doran again sponged the patient’s face and 
hands, and she had grown quieter when a loud cry 
from the mob caused her to start to a sitting posture. 
With wild, frightened eyes, she called again, “ Sita ! 
my Sita ! ” 

“ I am here, mama-ji,” the girl answered, com- 
posedly, taking the hands of the patient and stroking 
them. 

“ You are here, daughter? ” There was conscious- 
ness in the eyes, but fright as well. “ Why, I thought 
— I dreamed that wild beasts were tearing you to 
pieces and oh, how they roared.” 

“ No, mama-ji. It is the fever that makes you 
dream. Do not fear for me. Sleep now. The noise 
will cease — shall cease,” she added, under her breath. 
She continued her soothing ministrations and 
reassuring words until the patient appeared to sleep. 
Then she withdrew her hands, and after looking long- 
ingly at the closed eyes, turned to leave the room, 
when Miss Ray again opened her eyes. 

“ You have helped me, dear,” she said, “ you are 
my brave daughter, and you are not alone. I had 
almost forgotten and thought it was for me to^ save 
you. Jesus will save.” 

“ Jesus will save,” reiterated the girl. ^ Lo, I am 
with you alway/ ” 

‘ Trust ye in the Lord forever/ ” 

'For in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength/ ” 

“ '' Everlasting strength/ ” 


Defeat and Victory 351 

Though He slay me, yet will I trust him/ '' 

Trust in Him — with you,” the weary voice 
faltered, and the fevered eyes closed. 

“ Alway,” — a wonderful peace had come to the girl, 
and still softly stroking the hot hands she repeated 
again and again: “All will be well; all must be well, 
all is well. Peace, all is well.” 

When Miss Ray slept, Sita laid her hands on the 
white coverlet. “I am going,” she said softly to 
Dr. Doran. “ She must not know.” She then 
salaamed silently to the doctor and the girls and went 
out. 

In the drawing-room she found the pandita, Janak 
Ram, Miss Harmon, and Miss Vernon. The light 
had come back into the girl’s eyes, and with it a new 
light which illumined her face. “ I go,” she said to 
the little company, “there is no other way. I en- 
danger Miss Ray’s life by staying here, and my going 
will bring deliverance to her and to the girls. It is 
God’s will that I go.” 

While Sita was speaking, the door was thrown vio- 
lently open, and Ram Chandra burst into the room. 
Immediately behind him followed Mr. Ashley, who 
instantly closed and bolted the door. 

The young man, arrested by the girl’s last words, 
stood staring at her as though dazed. 

Turning she looked at him, her face fearless and still 
radiant as she said : “ I go with you, my lord.” 

But there now arose a clamour outside, and Sita, 
hearing the indignant voices of the college boys, 
hastened to the door. 


352 The Appeal 

Ram Chandra, with the dazed look still on his face, 
followed her and her friends out upon the veranda. 

Among the college boys who had been eager to fight 
Sita’s battles was Lakshman, but at a word from Sita 
he and they quietly gave way. 

The excited crowd fell back. Intruding upon the 
stillness, from a neighbouring village came sounds of 
merriment and the steady beating of tamtams. The 
dense clouds had lifted for the time and in the light 
of the full moon the people looked in bewilderment at 
the little group on the veranda, in the midst of which 
stood Sita, beautiful and radiant. The exalted joy on 
the girl’s face was something quite different from the 
joy of a happy bride, something that filled them with 
awe. 

She stood thus a moment, then spoke in low, clear 
tones, “ I go with the tahsildar's son, and I go of my 
own will. My God, the Great God, bids me go; I have 
heard His voice.” 

Not a sound broke the stillness which followed and 
Sita quietly salaamed to her friends, and, unassisted, 
took her place in the waiting tonga. 

Ram Chandra, recovering himself, gave the order to 
the driver and sprang in front. As the tonga started 
Sita gave a last look at her friends and dropped the 
tonga curtain. 

Vishna ki jai, Ram ki jai! [Victory to Vishnu, 
Victory to Ram],” cried several of the crowd, partially 
recovering from their bewilderment. 

Sita’s face held, however, nothing of defeat, but 
instead, victory. And as the mob slunk away with 


Defeat and Victory 353 

a half-hearted repetition of their cry, the college 
young men who, five minutes before were ready to 
fight in the girl’s defence, began at once to sing a 
song of victory. Among those who had been eager 
to fight Sita’s battles was Lakshman; but among the 
voices that rose in the notes of triumph, she listened 
in vain for that of Mohani’s brother. 

The moon now entered the black clouds and the 
tonga disappeared in the darkness. But after it into 
the darkness followed the triumphant voices, sing- 
ing:— 


" Jai Prabhu Yesu; Jai Adhi RajahP 
[“Victory to the Lord Jesus; Victory to the great King.”] 




i 





GLOSSARY 


OF HINDUSTANI TERMS 


Ackchka, good. 

Angrezi4og, English people. 
Arampur, city of rest. 

Ayah, nurse, attendant. 

Baba, baby, child. 

Babu, a title. 

Bahadur, a hero, sometimes a 
title. 

Bat, a title of courtesy affixed 
to a woman's name. 

Bus, enough. 

Bhat, brother. 

Bhajan, a hymn. 

Bibi, a lady. 

Chapati, bread in the form of 
flat cakes. 

Chaprassz, a messenger. 

Char anna, four annas. An 
anna is Indian money of 
account, the sixteenth of a 
rupee, or about cents. 
Chup raho, be silent. 

Dal bhat, pulse and rice. 
Dharma Pustak, Holy Book. 
Dharma Shastras, Sacred 
Writings. 

Dukhan, shop. 

Dwij, twice-bom. 

Galt, abusive language. ^ 

Gari, a cart or other vehicle. 
Gariwan, driver. 

Goshi-walla, meatman. 

Hdi! hhi! alas! alas! 

Hukam, order, command. 

Jat, victory. 

Jhatpat, instantly. 

Jhuti saksht, perjury. 

Jt, the polite affirmative. 

Ji, honourable, used as an affix 
to a name. 

Kachcha, raw, unripe, unfin- 
ished. 


Kacheri, courthouse. 

Kismat, Fate. 

Kshama Sagar, O cean of For- 
giveness. 

Kurt a, jacket. 

Lacy a hundred thousand. 

Lota, a drinking vessel. 

Matdan, a common. 

Pagal, insane. 

Pagrt, turban. 

Pakka, ripe, perfected. 

Panchayat, counciL 

Pandit, a learned man. 

Pandit a, a learned woman. 

Ram, a proper name; an incar- 
nation of the Hindu Divinity, 
Vishnu. 

Sari, a garment. 

Shadt, marriage, wedding. 

Shadi-walla, the boy or man 
to whom a girl is married or 
betrothed. 

Sati, the act of burning ‘a 
widow on the funeral pile of 
her husband. 

Sahib, a title. 

Samp, snake. 

Sepoy, soldier, a policeman. 

Tahsil, district. 

Tahsildar, an officer of high 
authority in a district. 

Talaw, tank, pond. 

Tan man $e, with body and 
mind. 

Thik, correct. 

Tiffin, luncheon. 

Topi, hat, turban. 

Tota, parrot. 

Vishnu, a Divinity of the mod- 
ern Hindu triad. 








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